Snapshots of Familial Ties
by Fraying Threads
Summary: Featuring one-shots. Family, he told himself, were those you hold dear to your heart, people you long for when alone, and the ones you think of in your brightest or darkest moments. You don't become family just because you are labelled as one. For Ace, taking his place as Whitebeard's son meant accepting a whole lot of siblings too. It was his greatest challenge yet.
1. When Ace gets comfortable

**Hello!**

 **Welcome to the first chapter of "Snapshots of Familial Ties"! This fic would be a compilation of one-shots. Updated irregularly. I was going to update "Stuck" today but I decided to write something on a happier note for once. There isn't a set plot and...may include happy/angsty/angry/humour/adventure or any genre, really.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: When Ace gets comfortable**

To be really, really honest, most of the Whitebeard crew had been very surprised when one Portgas D. Ace, who had been a very much unwilling guest on their ship for a 100-odd day, accepted the offer to become one of them. While they had noticed the gradual lack of steam in his daily assassination attempts, many had attributed it to his waning determination or perhaps he was finally breaking out of the denial that he couldn't defeat their father and captain.

They thought the kid would ask to be dropped off on the nearest island, for where in the world would the arrogant, proud brat pull out the humility to serve under another man?

Not that they weren't pleased with his decision. He was a fine addition to the crew, after all.

They simply never expected him to…stay.

On the 101th day of his time on the Moby Dick, the pirate had turned up at the mess hall for the first time, his back proudly displaying Whitebeard's mark. By his side was, to no one's surprise, Marco, whose features had sported a mix of smugness and disinterest that only he could pull off.

"Everyone," the first mate had announced, "please welcome our newest brother." A glance at the brother in question. "Ace, if you will."

A bright smile, not unlike the Sun, stunned the crew into utter silence even as the pirate had bowed so low his hat almost fell off. "Hello everyone. My name is Portgas D. Ace and I apologise for all the trouble. I look forward to meeting all of you."

The quiet turned almost deafening and was only broken by the rumbling laughter of their captain. To make them feel better that they had been taken off guard so easily though, even Marco had looked dumbfounded, as if he hadn't expected the younger fire-user to re-introduce himself so casually. Ace had then proceeded to look at the Phoenix for further instruction and that snapped the latter out of it as he pulled the teen to where the commanders sat.

"Did that…just happen?"

Murmurs broke out.

"Did you see his smile?"

"How did- no, when did- I think I must be dreaming."

"Never thought he'd cave. Guess miracles do happen."

And perhaps that explained it, for none of them were braced for the complete turn in attitude they were in for.

* * *

Haruta yawned as he made his way onto the deck. He cracked his neck. Why had he slept so late the night before? He felt so tired. If he just let himself fall, he was sure he'd crash immediately, watching brothers and future teasing be damned. He blinked blearily as the sun almost blinded him, nearly crashing into someone as he walked half-awake as he was.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

The 'someone', Jozu, apparently, hummed under his breath, not sparing the commander a single glance.

Haruta frowned. "Jozu?" He followed the older man's gaze that led to Oyaji's chair.

To specifically Oyaji and….what in the four seas?

Suddenly alert, the brunette gaped at the pirate currently lounging on his father's lap. His trademark cowboy hat was tugged over his face, his head pillowed by a giant arm. His legs dangled a little off Oyaji's thigh and Haruta realised with a start that the pirate wasn't wearing his boots. For his part, Whitebeard was grinning proudly as his looked down at his newest son.

"We've got our own little daredevil, don't we?" Izo commented as he approached.

Haruta shook his head violently. "B-but-" He pointed an accusing finger at the fire-user. "He's _sleeping_. On Oyaji's _lap_!"

"Yes, he is, isn't he?" the kimono-clad pirate chuckled. "Two days ago and he's trying to kill Oyaji. Today he sleeps on his lap."

Jozu snorted. "You'd think he'd wait at least a week before he'd attempt to do something like this."

Haruta stared at them, slack-jawed. Ace- _Portgas D. Ace_ – the same reckless, angry pirate who swore on his name he'd take Whitebeard down was treating their father like a chair and no one was saying anything?! Well, so to speak. Most everyone on deck were shooting their captain and newest (and youngest) brother looks mixed with exasperation and amusement.

Just then, the fire-user stirred. A hand sluggishly reached up to push his hat out of the way as he sat up.

"Sleep well, son?" Oyaji asked, his grin widening.

Ace mumbled something indistinct. He blinked at the assemble of pirates and, for a moment, seemed confused at the attention. His gaze swept across the deck and landed on Marco, who was standing a few feet away, an eyebrow raised.

"Had a good sleep, yoi?"

A little smile tugged at the younger's lips before he yawned. "Not ready," he mumbled, before flopping again on his back.

Whitebeard rubbed soothing circles on his tummy and the pirate practically purred. He muttered something again before he tugged his hat over his face, appearing to all the world that he was quite ready to take on another few hours of sleep. To Haruta's surprise, his adoptive father looked right at him.

"Care to join us?"

The twelfth commander coloured as everyone on deck shifted their attention to him. He folded his arms. "No way!" he bit out. "I'm not a child!"

A soft chuckle came from Izo's side and he glared at him. "I'm not!" He scowled at the sleeping figure on his father's lap. "He's a teenager, and I'm not. Only kids do that."

"You be careful he doesn't hear you, Haruta," Izo murmured as he gently pushed the brunette forward. "Go on. Oyaji is waiting."

Haruta glanced at his captain, who was beckoning him closer, and he sighed. That stupid newbie was such a pain. He shuffled forward and was about to jump up ( _he_ had been Whitebeard's son for far longer than Ace ever would be and certainly wasn't scared to do something as affectionate as sit on his lap) when a hand shot out to pull him up. He gave a yelp as he was suddenly met with solemn grey eyes.

"Hi," Ace whispered.

Too shocked to do anything but answer, Haruta replied with an tentative 'hi' and was then treated to the most blinding smile he had ever seen. The fire-user then proceeded to tug him closer, throw an arm over him before promptly falling asleep.

Oyaji said quietly (or as quietly as he could), "Watch over your younger brother, Haruta."

That's right. Haruta was an older brother now. A small part of him felt bitter that he wasn't the youngest anymore. The twelfth commander looked up when a giant finger patted his head. He smiled when he saw Oyaji's twinkling eyes. But maybe…maybe that wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

One of the few things they noticed about their newest brother was his obvious attachment to their oldest brother. He would look for Marco for answers, seek him out for company and would more or less attach himself to the older man whenever he could.

"Marco? Marco! Marco Marco!"

Vista coughed into his hand in an attempt to hide a smile. "And there he is again."

Thatch laughed out loud at the light flush that coloured the first division commander's features. "Aww look. Someone's favourite brother is boring ol' Marco. Isn't that the sweetest?"

Marco glared at snickering pirates and looked about to retaliate when a flash of orange and black crashed into his side. He expertly braced himself with his left foot to prevent from stumbling even as he glanced at the pirate that was now clinging to his torso.

"Hey, Marco!" Ace pulled back, a grin so large on his freckled features it was a wonder it didn't hurt his cheeks. Or maybe it did, and it didn't bother him.

"Ace, yoi," the Phoenix greeted. "What did you find this time?"

The pirates watched in mild amusement as the teenager practically vibrated in excitement. The kid dug into his pockets and carefully held out a purple shellfish for them to see.

"This! It recorded everything I said!"

The blonde's lips twitched at the complete awe in the wide grey eyes. "That's a dial, yoi."

Ace blinked. "A dial?" he repeated.

"Yes, Fire Fist," Vista answered. "It came from the Sky Islands, and is able to store energy and matter. They have many uses, and the one in your hand is a Tone Dial. It records sounds and replays it when you click," – at this, he pointed at the curved top of the device – "that."

The freckled pirate nodded slowly. "Oh. I got that part. It kept replaying whatever I said so…"

"Really?" Thatch piped up, looking interested. "What did you record? Can we hear it?"

None of the pirates missed the brief flash of hesitance or when Ace threw Marco an uncertain look. At the latter's encouraging smile, he nodded and held out the dial again. Thatch caught the hint and pressed the button. Immediately the fire-user's voice rang out.

" _-can hear my voice? Luffy is going to love this."_ An indistinct murmur. _"-teach him, oh! Okay."_ A cough. _"Here goes. 'The islands in the south~ are warm~ Paina~purupuru~ Their heads get really hot. And they are all idiots!' …Okay. Second verse! 'The islands in the north~ are cold~ Hyakkoi~koikoi~ Their heads shiver all around. And they are all idiots!'"_ There was a sound of something fumbling in the background. _"Okay. That should do it. Oh, wait. It's recording what I'm say- no! Don't! How do I-"_

The dial stopped.

Ace laughed nervously at the ensuing silence. He held the device close to his chest as his eyes darted between the watching pirates. "Um, at least I used it right..?"

Just then, Thatch broke into loud laughter. He slapped his hands against his knees, his shoulders shaking. "That was- that was brilliant!" he gasped.

The teen, who looked almost insulted at the outburst, bit his lip. "It was?" he asked, uncertain.

The chef nodded, the beginning of tears welling in his eyes. "I mean, the song was ridiculous but it was brilliant!"

"Uh, Thatch," Vista cut in. He exchanged a look with Marco when Ace frowned.

"No, seriously! Did you hear that? I can't stop laughing."

"Thanks," the freckled pirate said shortly. A second later and he roundhouse kicked the fourth commander into the sea. A startled yelp accompanied the loud crash of a railing before there was a splash. He turned back to the remaining two pirates.

"He's not a devil fruit user, right?"

Vista shook his head. "Nope. One of our best swimmers, if you disregard Namur."

Ace nodded purposefully. "Good." He turned to Marco. "Did you like it?"

Marco raised an eyebrow. "That you chucked Thatch into the sea or the recording, yoi?"

The grey-eyed pirate seemed to think for a while. "Both!" he decided after a moment.

The first commander smirked. "Very much. Although you might want to hold back throwing him off the ship too much. He rations your food when he's sulky, yoi."

A look of horror crossed the youngest freckled features. "He wouldn't!"

Vista snorted. "No need to worry about that. Marco would never let him."

Ace looked towards the blonde as something that could only be described as hope shone in his eyes. "Really?"

"It's my job, brat." Marco inwardly sighed at the knowing smile from Vista even as he reached out to ruffle the kid's hair.

The youngest pirate beamed at him.

"You can keep that if you want, yoi."

"Really?"

"You wanted to give it to someone called Luffy, right?"

Ace nodded enthusiastically.

A laugh. "Marco likes you, Fire Fist. Just ask and he will deliver."

"…really?"

A sigh. "Shut it, Vista. Just because he won't chuck you into the sea doesn't mean I wouldn't, yoi."

* * *

"You aren't going to drink, yoi?"

Ace shot the first commander a cautious look. "Nope," he answered with a loud 'pop'.

"Why not?"

The teenager shrugged. "Don't like alcohol."

Marco sat up at that admission. He shot the younger pirate a curious glance, interest piqued. "You may just be the first pirate I met who feels that way," he said slowly.

"Huh. Really? A pirate doesn't have to like drinking. We're free to do what we want."

The blonde let out a breath. The corners of his lips curled. "Of course, yoi."

Both of them sat a little ways away from their family, their backs against the sides of the ship. Above them, the sky was overcast, hiding even the brightest of stars as cold gusts of wind blew against the Moby Dick. At the moment the crew was partying in celebration of a crew member's birthday. Although, with the size of the crew, it was almost always someone's birthday…

"Why aren't you drinking though?"

Marco smiled at the openly curious look. "My devil fruit power doesn't allow me to get drunk, not unless I chain myself with sea stone. Besides, someone has to watch over those drunken fools, yoi." As if in afterthought, he added to himself, "Goodness knows Oyaji would rather follow in their example then take a break."

Ace laughed lightly. "He drinks a lot, doesn't he?"

The blonde snorted. "Like water, yoi."

A comfortable silence fell between them then. Someone cheered in the background and Marco could see from the corner of his eye Namur jumping into the sea to retrieve an overboard Fossa. Another casual sweep across the deck and he spotted Thatch laughing with members of his division, and a overly happy Haruta perched on his shoulders. Other members sat in their own circles, each spending the night in their own manner of relaxation.

Marco was so lost in his thoughts he would have jumped when a finger prodded at his shoulder. He turned to see Ace staring blankly at him.

"I'm tired," the kid announced once he was sure he had the blonde's attention.

The commander raised an eyebrow. Already? He wasn't sure if it was a teenage thing but he slept much more than anyone else on the ship. "Go to sleep then, yoi. The party would probably drag until the morning."

Ace seemed to wince at the thought. "That sounds a little intimidating, to be honest. I'd never be able to stay awake the next day," he admitted.

Marco moved to get up. "Come on, I'll-" He froze when his brother all but fell into his lap. Dark tresses of hair covered the teen's eyes and, coupled with the night sky, shadowed the pirate's features even as he curled into a ball.

The older pirate forced himself to relax. He sat back again, eyes never leaving the head that was now pillowed on his lap. "You making it a habit to sleep on people, yoi?" he teased lightly.

There was a moment's pause. "Luffy," Ace suddenly murmured. "He used to do this all the time."

Luffy? Marco was very sure he had heard the name before. "He's your brother, isn't he?"

The freckled teen nodded his head, the movement rumpling the older's pants. "My little brother," he said softly, a hint of pride entering his voice. "He's a really energetic kid and hardly gets tired. But…when he does, he'd come to me and say, 'Ace, I'm tired.'" He let out a breathy chuckle. "Even though he'd claim to be tired, we'd talk for hours and, he loved it when I allowed him to sleep on me, for some reason…" he trailed off.

Grey eyes suddenly peered at the commander, and he knew instinctively knew what his youngest brother was asking for. He let out an small smile, his fingers reaching to card through the kid's hair. He brushed the bangs away from Ace's features to reveal uncertainty and perhaps tiny flecks of subdued hope.

"So tell me about your brother, yoi," Marco said under his breath.

Ace hesitated, before the same bright smile stretched across his lips. Honestly, the blonde could get used to that smile. A feeling of contentment washed over him when the younger started to speak, though he wondered how long it would last. Already the grey eyes began to droop every now and then.

Well, if the kid never had the opportunity to be the younger brother, Marco was quite certain he'd be in for an exuberant ride on the Moby Dick. He did now have over hundreds of older siblings and the commander was no fool to believe none were eager to get to know their newest addition to the family. He only hoped Ace was ready to be smothered in attention for a while before the hype died down and, even then, he'd still be treated a little differently. He was the youngest, after all.

* * *

 **Do leave a review! :) I do take requests too so just let me know and I will try to input them somewhere.**


	2. When Ace doesn't get having a father

**Hello everyone!**

 **Thank you for your reviews, follows & favourites! :) I would expand on this more but I am oh, so tired right now. Regarding Stuck, yes, I am halfway through it and it should be up sometime this week.**

 **Most of you requested more scenes with Whitebeard, and ta-daa! Here it is. It may not be what you might have hoped for, but I wanted to make it clear Ace's stand on suddenly having a father. I doubt it is as easy as it could appear. I personally can't imagine suddenly having a man to look up to, when all my life I have hated the mere term of 'father'. And that man being the same one he had tried to kill over a 100 times no less. A little awkward, at the very least, no?**

 **Also, take note that one of the following scenes include how he had approached Whitebeard, to end up sleeping on his lap for the first time. Again, thank you so much and I already have the next chapter planned. Sigh. So many ideas, so little time.**

 **Do enjoy and let me know what you think!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: When Ace doesn't understand what having a father means**

The ocean looked different at night. It glinted with the dim light reflected by the moon, a shimmering mess of grey shades and dark blues. Occasionally the rocky heaves of small waves cracked the smooth surface of water before sinking back into the darkness. Above, a canopy of blackness, interspersed with the rare cloud and twinkling little lights, made up the vast night sky. Brushes of cool wind swept against the Moby Dick, and brought with it a whiff of salt and minty scent.

 _I could never get used to this._

A small smile on his lips, Ace breathed in deeply.

He was surrounded by utter grandness- the wilderness of the New World, the soaring exultation of freedom, the warmth of his flames and…and the beauty of family. Something inside him flipped as a mess of confused feelings reared up inside him. He had…well, he had family before he came to the Grand Line, but this was on a whole other level. The teen held out his hand and raised it to rest inches above the railing. He slowly curled his fingers, almost experimentally.

He didn't truly understand why the Whitebeards wanted him as one of their own. The moment he had taken their hand, they had practically pounced him and dragged him all over in their admittedly anxious (read: _overwhelming_ ) attempt to make him fit in. They laid upon him their unspoken rules, which brother to go to for which problem, where to find the commanders…

Ace let out a sigh.

He knew he was strong in his own right (and yet disgustingly weak) and maybe that was only reason he was spared that first time he fought against Whiteb-no, his captain. But that was a story of yesterday. He now stood on the precipice of a new journey, but this time, with family by his side. Most importantly, with a _father_ by his side.

His heart pounded against his ribcage then and the ex-captain had to breathe deeply to quell the uneasiness that nested within the confines of his mind.

 _I don't understand_. He uncurled his fingers. _Are we really family, or do we simply call ourselves one? I know the Whitebeards are known for protecting their own fiercely but…_

Ace looked up at the sky, his eyes shadowed.

 _I don't understand._

It wasn't something he could ask, for he might cause offense, and the mere risk of isolating himself when he had been so, so alone for a 100-odd days made his heart clench. Could he behave like he would to one he called a brother? Was he allowed to…to sit at his father's feet and chatter on all day if he wanted to? Being a part of them- just what did it entail?

He didn't even know how to be a little brother, and worse, a son!

A touch of longing tugged at his insides. _Luffy, if only you were here to guide me. You always knew how to handle people, while I only scared them away._

Ace slapped a palm against the wooden appendage before him as he tried to summon the fortitude he knew he would need for the coming days. He had chosen this. He had watched them and so strong was his desire to have even a fraction of what they had that his relentless drive to surpass his father wavered until he broke pitifully under the pressure. Now that he had lost sight of that goal that had pushed him past his loneliness, his hunger to live, and his will to keep on moving, he had to find another one.

And so, he decided, the time to move was the present.

What he didn't know or understand…

 _Well, I guess I just have to find out._

* * *

Rakuyo was tinkering with his spiked ball and chain, his mind playing with the idea of adding steel clamps to his weapon to increase its weight and potential deadliness, but torn by the expected loss in accuracy he'd have to suffer as a result. He was so lost in thought he almost missed it when a shadow crept across the deck, all cloaked in black, and alarmingly towards his father's chair.

His grip on his weapon tightened. He would have attacked already, had he little faith in his captain to protect himself. Yet, as the seventh commander, it was foremost his duty to defend the man he had sworn to follow to his grave.

He watched the man hesitate a few steps away from the Yonko's line of sight. A part of him wondered why his father did nothing to acknowledge this new threat when he realised with certain dismay that the man must be asleep. It was nearly midnight, after all, and Marco – the stupid bird – always nagged at their father to rest early. Taking to his feet, he sprinted forward, his gaze darting quickly across the deck to confirm he was the only one who had noticed the stranger (who was really so brazen and _stupid_ to just hide in a black cloak, alone).

Once a few metres away, his arm pulled back to propel his weapon forward when he froze, recognition kneeing him in the gut when he saw the garish orange cowboy hat sitting atop of messy dark locks. What the hell? Rakuyo dug his heels into the ground, and quickly pumped his legs with a burst of energy that drove him in another direction to settle behind a wooden pillar just a little distance away. He stuck his head as far as he could out to peer at the teenager, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

If it was any other brother or sister, he would have turned right around or risk being laughed at, but this was… This was the kid who had tried to kill his father for weeks. He didn't think the kid would resort to something so underhanded as to pretend to be one of them before stabbing them in the back but the commander had enough experience to know that sometimes desperation drove people to lengths even they wouldn't imagine.

Rakuyo's inside swirled with nervous energy as Ace crept up to his slumbering captain. He saw his head tilt to stare at the giant man as a flicker of – was that indecision? – shuddered through his lithe frame. The fire-user lifted a hand, paused, before reaching out to tug at the man's pants lightly. The Yonko stirred.

The commander drew back, confused, and then slack-jawed as the scene unfolded before him.

Whitebeard blinked blearily before another tug caused him to look down at his foot. He raised an eyebrow. "Ace?" his voice rumbled gruffly. "What is it?"

The fire-user didn't let go of the fabric in his hands. In fact, his grip seemed to tighten. "I…" he trailed off.

The Yonko frowned then. "You couldn't sleep?" he asked after a long silence.

Ace's features shadowed, the brim of his hat casting the top of his face in darkness. For a moment, Rakuyo felt a tendril of pity for the pirate. From the way the kid held himself, every part of him screamed in isolation, as if he stood alone even on a ship full of rowdy sailors. The fire-user spoke then.

"I…" he began again. "I wanted to…" His shoulders trembled with the effort to keep on speaking. He took in a deep breath and stilled when a large hand flicked his hat off his head to fall against his back. A warm smile stretched across the captain's lips as he peered at his newest child. He patted one of his large knees.

"Come here," he ordered softly.

The fire-user hesitated but the proceeded to pull his cloak off his shoulders, tuck it in his arms, before clambering onto the giant man's lap. Once there, the seventh commander was sure he caught a flash of caution and restrained hope in the grey eyes before the young pirate was gently tugged to sit, his legs dangling off a large knee. A large hand held him in place, as if to keep him from falling.

Or from running away, Rakuyo thought to himself. The look on the kid's face was nothing short of pale now, as if he was afraid he'd be cleaved in two.

"Now," Whitebeard said even as the fire-user tilted his head back to stare at him. "Do you want to talk, listen to some wild tale weaved by some drunken sailor from the past, or would you prefer to call it a day and sleep?"

To no one's surprise, Ace didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained locked on the older man's and the captain only returned the gaze calmly. Minutes ticked by until the teen finally looked away.

"I can't," he said softly. "I can't call you…O-oyaji."

Rakuyo's hold on his weapon slackened at the note of sadness that rang in the kid's words. He pulled back slightly, feeling a little foolish, now quite convinced the kid meant no harm. And guilty too, for this was no doubt turning into a moment of privacy he had no right to intrude upon. He would back away, but doing so now would reveal himself to the two pirates. He winced at the thought.

Whitebeard didn't acknowledge the spoken words instantly. Instead, he gave a long sigh. "It's only been a day and already I have made a mistake. I've been a bad father, haven't I?"

Ace jerked up from his hunched form, shocked. "W-what?" His mouth seemed to work to find the right words. "What?" he repeated a second later.

The older pirate smiled at him, a hint of melancholy entering his eyes. "You are troubled, son. You have come to me in an attempt to search for answers, am I correct?" The ensuing silence was all the answer he needed. The tips of his lips curled downwards. "But you are not comfortable enough to discuss them with me, and what father must I be that my own son cannot talk to me freely?"

The freckled teen's eyebrows furrowed until they formed a slanted 'V'. "It's only been a day," he said slowly. "I tried to kill you only _yesterday_. And..." He swept an arm around him to indicate their positions. "This is progress, right?" Uncertainty layered his words.

The corners of Whitebeard's eyes crinkled as he let out a chuckle. "Yes, yes, it is," he answered. "Why don't we spend some time to get to know each other better? Would you like that?"

Ace's countenance cleared then, surprising the seventh commander at the sudden change. The kid sat up straighter. "I would like that." The fire-user seemed to think over something. He must have decided on something, for a strange light lit up his grey eyes. "I was going to ask if I could…spend the night with you." A dark flush crept up his cheeks as he spoke.

Rakuyo almost choked. What?!

Whitebeard glanced at the dark flowing material in the kid's arms. His grin widened. "All prepared, I see," he guffawed, his shoulders shaking. He leaned back. "Come on then. The night will fade in a few hours and Marco will yell at us come morning for sleeping outside."

Ace relaxed, his own smile stretching across his features until it turned into the same sunny smile they had received that morning in the mess hall. He nodded before settling himself, his back against the giant's chest. He was in the middle of covering himself with the blanket when the Yonko tugged it over his form.

"Good night, son."

The kid exhaled noisily before giving his own wishes. A few moments later and he was breathing steadily, lulled to sleep by the older man's breathing and calming rock of the Moby Dick. A strange thought entered Rakuyo's mind as he unwittingly associated the young pirate with a child finally returning to his parents after long day away. It didn't help that the kid was sleeping on his father's lap.

Seeing the opportunity to escape, the commander crept backwards but stopped when a stern, but quiet order froze him in place. He looked up to see his father's gaze on his. The captain blinked slowly and the message was clear.

Rakuyo placed a fist against his chest and nodded solemnly. _No one will hear of this_ , he promised. His eyes fell on the sleeping teenager.

As he walked away, he added to himself, _And I will watch over him as well._

* * *

Portgas D. Ace was a troublemaker.

This was but just one of the many discoveries the crew was learning about him, and even Izo couldn't deny the tiny spark of satisfaction at the resigned dismay on the first commander's face when they realised just how…curious their new brother was. It had only been one week since he had taken up their father's mark and already he proved he fit the role as the youngest very well.

That is, for finding trouble in the most unexpected of places. That is why, Izo supposed, the younger ones often need someone to watch over them lest they poke their heads into something that finally bit back.

Most of the crew had been brought to the deck when a loud commotion had caught their attention. It didn't take long for them to put the pieces together; apparently their newest member had taken off to explore the island they had shored nearby to, bumped into a marine camp, and had, of course, engaged them in battle. To his luck (good or bad remained to be seen), their resident Phoenix had been on watch and had followed the teenager, only to drag him back by the talons on his feet to send him skidding across the deck, shouting profanities all the while.

At the moment, Ace was standing, arms folded and back straight, rigidly before Marco. An impressive scowl pulled his childish features into something fierce even as the blonde berated at him harshly.

"What made you think that was a good move, yoi? They could have killed you!"

Ace rolled his eyes. "Those pathetic little weaklings?" he retorted in disbelief. "They couldn't hit a brick wall."

Marco narrowed his eyes in dangerous slits. "The New World does not present the same challenges as Paradise, Ace. The people at this part of the Grand Line are much stronger than you think. What would happen when you next face off against someone who's much stronger than you, yoi?"

"I'm not weak! I may not be insanely strong like you commanders but I can hold my own just fine!"

The first commander looked ready to tear out his hair. "I never said you were weak!"

"Sure sounded like it!" Ace snapped.

Izo glanced at the other pirates on deck, his dark eyes meeting Thatch's for a second. The chef shrugged helplessly as the argument escalated. As Marco's voice raised, many of the Whitebeards took to leaving the deck, though few remained as the blonde's temper began to fray. Everyone knew not to push their oldest brother when it came to their safety. Marco _never_ let them off when they took unnecessary risks and his fury when they did was something no one wanted to bear witness to, much less be subjected to it.

For his part, even the sixteenth commander felt a twinge of sympathy when the Phoenix finally snapped and slapped the younger fire-user mid-sentence. Instead of the shocked silence most would expect, Ace didn't even pause. He shoved the commander back a few steps as his grey eyes burned with a heat that matched the flames licking across his shoulders.

"I've been in the New World long enough before I came to this ship. I _know_ I could have handled them," he hissed. "I am _not_ a child."

"Then stop acting like one," Marco snapped back. Even then, his blue eyes shadowed in what Izo presumed as guilt for hitting his brother, though it didn't stop him from rolling out words of anger. "You don't get to do whatever you want whenever you want, yoi!"

"Don't tell me what to do! You have no right!"

And that was enough. Izo lurched forward before Marco could do something he'd later regret, like throw the stupid child into the sea for his brazenness. Although the Phoenix tended to do that, this was not done in good fun. This would have been done in angry retaliation or in an ill attempt to tame their youngest into good behaviour. Goodness knows how Ace would hate him instead.

"That's enough," Izo said flatly as he stood between them. " _One_ word, and I will shoot both of you so hard you won't know what hit you." His fingers rubbed circles over the base of his gun when Marco glowered at him. He shot a stern look at the heavily breathing teenager and was satisfied when Ace only looked away, his lips curling downwards in disgust.

"Good," he muttered. Raising his voice, he continued as he directed his attention back at Marco, "Oyaji wants to see Ace, correct?"

Ace stiffened. Marco glanced at him and nodded slowly.

"Go on then," Izo said impatiently when neither moved.

The blonde gave him an irritated look. "Hold on." He turned back to Ace. "Look at me, yoi," he ordered quietly.

The freckled pirate did so reluctantly, his glare not diminished by the hard look he received.

Marco went on, "I know it's only been a week since you've joined us and you're likely not used to having people to answer to." His voice lowered and one had to be deaf to miss the dangerous undertones that layered his softly spoken words. "You have _no_ right, yoi, to go off on your own and to endanger yourself for no good reason. Next time you decide to play Mr Adventurer, don't expect to come back without facing the repercussions. And if you do," – there was a heavy pause – "then don't return at all."

The blonde turned his back to him. "You have fifteen commanders and a captain you serve under now, Ace. Don't you ever forget that, yoi."

Izo shot the teenager a sympathetic look. That was…harsh, though necessary. Ace pressed his lips into thin lines even as he moved to follow the retreating commander's back as both made their way to their captain's chair.

-[Marco's POV]-

Marco brought the little rebel before his adoptive father. By his side, his hands trembled with the effort to keep his ire in check. He could feel his right palm smarting from hitting Ace earlier, and the ensuing twinge of guilt only made his anger flare as he took his place by Whitebeard's side. He must have been glowering still, for the teen looked away.

Whitebeard regarded his youngest son for a moment. "Are you injured?"

Ace's features broke into a confused frown. "I'm sorry?"

"You took on an entire camp of marines." The Yonko leaned forward. "Did they hurt you?"

The fire-user looked stupidly at his captain. "Uh, no. No, they didn't."

The giant man tugged at his white moustache to hide what Marco knew was a relieved smile. "That is good." He turned to Marco, his voice growing serious. "Marco, report."

The Phoenix straightened. "I was on watch this morning when I saw him slipping off to the island, yoi. There were reports of a marine settlement there so I followed to see him engaged in battle with at least ten opponents. One of them was a rear admiral. Ace managed to take half of them down before I went in and took him out, yoi."

Their captain nodded slowly. His eyes narrowed at the mention of a rear admiral even as he looked upon the scowling teenager. The pirate in question cast them both a wary glance. The unspoken question rang in the air. _Why did you do it?_

"I was…curious," Ace muttered after another bout of uncomfortable silence.

"Curious," Whitebeard repeated. "Is it in your habit to explore areas you've never been to before you joined us?"

The teen nodded.

"Always on your own?"

"Most of the time."

"And your crew?"

Ace looked away. "Left them on the ship."

A brief silence. "Has it always been that way?"

The teen hesitated. "I used to…do it with my little brother back home."

A contemplative look crossed the large man's features. "I see. Even so, Ace, that was not a good enough reason," he said sternly. "No matter your habits in the past, it is different now. You are with family, and we worry when you leave without informing us."

Ace glared at his feet. "You wouldn't have let me go."

"Of course not," Marco interjected angrily. "What you wanted to do was reckless and completely unnecessary, yoi!"

Ace looked about to retaliate when Whitebeard slammed the base of his bisento on the floor. The deck shook and the teen winced.

"That's enough," the giant ordered. He closed his eyes briefly at his two raging sons. "Ace, you broke one of our rules the moment you stepped off the ship without letting anyone know. For that, I regret that you will have to be punished." Ace tensed. "You are confined to your room for two weeks, and will only be allowed to roam the ship with the company of any one commander." Whitebeard paused to allow his words to sink in. "Am I understood?"

To both the older Whitebeards' surprise, Ace seemed to wait for before his expression turned into confusion, then a mix of disbelief and careful apprehension.

"And..?" he said slowly.

The Yonko raised an eyebrow. "That punishment isn't enough?"

Ace gaped. "You mean, that's it?" he asked incredulously. "You're not going to h-, uh, do other things to, uh, drive in your point?"

Something unpleasant rushed through Marco's veins, making him grow cold. Ace hadn't been trying to say…no, that wasn't right. His father seemed to think the same, for he frowned.

"You're my son, Ace. And I say that's enough," the giant man said gently. He gently ruffled the teen's mess of dark hair before lightly pushing the kid on his back towards the rooms. "Go on. I expect you to learn from this well."

Marco felt a tendril of warmth when Ace still looked towards him for guidance as uncertainty flickered across his countenance. He sighed. That kid would soon have him wrapped around his little finger if he wasn't too careful. "Come on, yoi," he muttered gruffly.

Ace bit his lip and skipped to walk alongside the Phoenix. He cast his father one last doubtful look and, after a brief hesitation, tugged at Marco to wait before he ran to throw his arms around one of the giant man's legs. He tightened his grip when Whitebeard leaned down (after nearly choking on his tankard of alcohol in surprise) to pat him on the back. When he drew back, a small smile was on his lips and his eyes seemed to gleam in delight. He returned to the first commander's side.

"Let's go let's go!"

Marco gave him a long, measuring look. "For someone who's grounded, you sure are happy, yoi," he grumbled, though he felt his own lips twitching into a smile.

Ace flashed him a grin, and the blonde really couldn't miss the red welt that marked one side of his cheek. His own smile faded. "Did it hurt?"

The kid caught on to his rapidly souring mood. "This?" He pressed a palm against his face. "Not anymore," he answered brightly.

The older man got the feeling Ace wasn't entirely referring to the injury. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, yoi," Marco said quietly.

Ace's grey eyes turned warm, and a weight seemed to lift off his shoulders as if what had transpired had given him something he had wanted. Instead of the expected dismissal, the teen pushed at him playfully. "Thank you," he whispered a second later.

Realisation crept into the commander. This brat...

He suppressed a sigh. The kid really was a troublemaker.

* * *

"STOP RIGHT THERE YOU PIECE OF UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!"

Ace burst through the mess hall and skidded to a halt. His grey eyes darted through the large room, ignoring the eyes trained on him curiously, before spotting Marco at one end of the table. He sprinted across the hall just as the door slammed open to reveal a furious fourth commander.

"Get back here!" Thatch screeched.

The teen turned enough to stick out his tongue at the man as he manoeuvred past brothers that yelled indignantly as they held tightly to their plates of food. Marco gave his lunch a look of longing before he stood up to intercept a raging Thatch even as one fire-user clutched at the back of his jacket gratefully.

"Thanks," Ace whispered as he fought to catch his breath.

Thatch shoved an accusing finger at the hiding pirate. "That little punk set fire to my kitchen!"

Marco's eyes widened. He asked urgently, "What? How bad is the damage?"

The chef scowled. "Bad enough! Now let me get at him!"

The teen took a step back, inadvertently pulling the blonde with him. "The table is _only_ a little scorched," he retorted. "Nothing else was damaged."

"It was _my kitchen_!" Thatch practically wailed. He threw his arms in the air. "There are burn marks on _my table_ in my _kitchen!_ "

"It's not like I wanted to do it!"

"Then why did you!?"

"It was-" Ace cut himself off and muttered almost inaudibly under his breath. "It was an accident."

 _An accident?_ Marco barely restrained the urge to press the bridge of his nose to ward off the incoming headache. That could only mean the kid wasn't fully in control of his powers. Already his head envisioned future accidents and the amount they'd have to pump in for all the repairs… In his moment of distraction, Thatch fully took the opportunity to lung at the teen. Ace yelped and ran towards his next spot of perceived safety.

The pirates in the mess hall looked on curiously as their newest brother leapt into the air, somersaulted to land on their father's shoulder. His boots barely missed stepping on the captain's large coat. His knees bent and his arms reached out to grasp at the white material to balance himself, though in the end he let go to hold on to the captain's hand instead.

Thatch froze as indignation surged through him. "That's not fair!" he shouted. "Oyaji! Put him down!" As if in afterthought, he added, "Please!"

Whitebeard's giant form shook as he let out a loud laugh. He turned his head to look at the son which was clinging smugly to his side. "Well, Ace? Should I listen to him?"

Ace pretended to think about it before he shook his head with vigour. "Nope!"

The older pirate's grin widened. "Really? Okay then."

The fourth commander gaped in disbelief. "What? You're not supposed to pick sides!" He cast Marco a pleading look. "Marco! Help me!"

The blonde only returned to his seat. "I want to eat, yoi." Blue eyes regarded Ace. "Once you're done, come have your lunch."

Ace beamed. "Okay!"

Seeing that he would receive no help from his useless brothers, Thatch squared his shoulders. With a loud proclamation of war, he ran up to Whitebeard and began to climb over his captain himself in an effort to reach his target. Ace's eyes widened and he slid down the giant man's chest to climb to the other shoulder. Thus began their chase as both scrambled over the thoroughly amused Yonko, who kept still enough during the entire exercise, though many of the watching audience caught him helping the fire-user as often as he hindered the commander's progress.

Someone let out a snicker when Thatch fell flat on his butt after tripping over a large finger that wasn't supposed to be there.

A sigh. "I worry for our future, yoi."

Vista gave him an amused smile. "Oyaji is being surprisingly indulgent."

From his side, Namur let out a polite cough. "Ace is very, very young. I doubt even Oyaji knows how to treat him accordingly. So…" he trailed off.

"So we get that pretty picture," Marco finished dryly as he watched Ace laughing from his perch on the giant's hand. Thatch shook a fist at him. "Even though I agree, I'm beginning to question the merits of letting Ace set the pace, yoi."

Vista clapped him on the back heartily. "No need to fret, Marco. Look how happy he is, regardless."

The first commander followed his gaze and he had to agree. Ace was only searching for answers, and he's getting them one by one. He only hoped the kid never realised the power he held over them with his blinding smiles and childish excitement. He sighed.

"He's such a troublemaker."

* * *

 **That's it for now!**

 **To clear some thoughts, Ace is trying to push at his boundaries to see how far he is allowed to go. Also, he hopes to know how he would be punished for breaking the rules. All his life, he was hidden from the world, and while he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted with what he had, he never really had someone he had to answer to, except Garp. Who would beat the living daylights out of him. Here, he tested his adoptive father's patience to find out what they'd do. Would he hit him? Would he kick him off the ship?**

 **Marco only realised this the moment Ace thanked him after receiving his punishment. And, of course, Whitebeard already knew.**

 **I already have a few requests lined up, so keep throwing them at me, yeah? Please leave a review and let me know what you think! :)**


	3. When Ace doesn't admit he's narcoleptic

**Hello!**

 **Here's the next request on Ace's narcolepsy. There are quite a few requests, and I'm writing them in the order that I receive them, just so I don't miss any. I'd make a list but hey, re-reading the reviews while I check again and again does feel a little...nice. Oops.**

 **Anyway, this is my take on Ace's sleep attacks. I'm not sure if this is the way you guys wanted it but I wanted to keep it as real as possible, and especially so since all these one-shots happen within the same storyline (and no, Ace didn't die at Marineford. Nope. Didn't happen. Can't hear you.) From my perspective, I think it would be a challenge for him to assimilate to his new position as a Whitebeard pirate. Like, hey, most of us have issues with people we love and grew up with under the same roof, and I doubt it would be any easier for him. For someone like him.**

 **With that said, do enjoy and please let me know what you think?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: When Ace doesn't admit he's narcoleptic**

It was not the first time the sixteenth division commander wondered if one Portgas D. Ace was mad. Or whatever the kids called it these days. Mentally unsound. Unbalanced. Insane. Screwed in the head. Or, to be more diplomatic, a little head-in-the-clouds sort of person. But whatever it was, the kid was going to drive their first commander (and ironically his most apparent favourite brother) to an early grave.

It was no hidden secret that Marco was the mother hen of the ship. While his instincts to smother all he cared for under his protective wing was made the brunt of jokes for all eternity to come, no one was cruel enough to try scare their oldest brother into worrying for their welfare. They knew that, for him, the concern was very much real.

And someone, Izo thought to himself, better tell that to the new kid fast before he gave poor Marco a heart attack. If the blonde saw this…

"What, exactly, is going on?"

The pirate tilted his head back, such that his chin stuck up in the air as grey eyes peered at him, upside down. The kid was, for all intents and purposes, lying on his back with his arms and legs casually sprawled, and seemed more than ready to fall asleep at any given moment. This wouldn't have come as much of a surprise to the commander had it been nearing the end of the day (since he had heard Marco muttering under his breath the early hours of which Ace would go to bed) and not one in the freaking afternoon.

"Hi," Ace said almost shyly. A hesitant smile crossed his enviously young features.

Izo forced back the urge to sigh. "Are you _trying_ to make every nook and cranny of this ship your sleeping quarters?" he asked dryly.

The fire-user coloured. He mumbled, "Of course not."

"Then why are you lying in the middle of the hallway which, I might add, is very heavy with traffic during lunch hours?"

Ace tilted his head. "Is that why you're here?"

The older pirate's eyebrow twitched. "This also leads to the commanders' rooms." He exhaled inaudibly at the blank look. "Should I even ask?"

"I'd really rather you not, to be honest," Ace answered, his tone a little guarded. He got to his feet. "I'll be seeing you around then."

The kid moved to get past him and Izo surprised even himself when his hand shot out to grab at the kid's arm. He felt the muscles beneath his grip stiffen and he had to admit, he was a little disappointed. "Ace," he said quietly. He continued when his now-brother shifted. "There's no need to hide anymore. We're family now."

There was a moment's pause. The air around them seemed to thicken and tense before Ace broke the silence.

"I know," he said, his voice low. He gently pried his arm free. He turned back around and gave the commander a bright smile, though when compared to that first grin in the mess hall, it was sadly dim. "I'll see you around, Izo."

With a quick wave, the fire-user turned the corner and was soon out of sight.

Izo frowned. The kid just needed more time. At least, he hoped so.

* * *

Namur was the next person to catch Ace reacquainting himself with the ship. He had been on watch duty and was just about to go up to the crow's nest when he was met with the prone body of the fire-user who had decided that stargazing while being tangled in the ropes leading up the mast was a grand idea. Something inside the fishman sank. Surely this eccentricity was not a thing among kids nowadays? He didn't think he could handle _that_. Goodness knows how crazy his family already was.

"Ace?" He prodded the unmoving figure uncertainly.

Bleary eyes shifted from the night sky to focus on him, and the pirate shifted uneasily at the empty look.

"Huh?" Ace seemed to break out of a trance. "N-Namur?"

Namur almost frowned in concern. The kid wasn't just sick after all, was he? "Too focused on stargazing you didn't notice me?" he carefully asked instead.

The teen blinked, as if confused. "Starg-" He suddenly cut himself off. Something strange flickered across his features. "Oh, right. I was exploring the ship and the night sky was especially bright tonight so…" he trailed off, his gaze darting to look at something beyond the fishman's shoulder.

"So you decided to wrap yourself in rope to see the sky better?"

Ace didn't even hesitate. "Yeap!"

Part of the commander wondered if he was being made a fool out of, but then the completely blank expression on the kid's face was too innocent (or maybe the kid really was just one devious little pirate) for him to doubt. He suppressed a sigh. "If you insist, Fire Fist. Well, I have duties to attend to so I'll be off." He nodded at the teen and moved to climb up the rest of the way.

"Hey, wait!"

The fishman pulled his arm back from the next rung of the ladder. He turned to see his brother looking anywhere but at him.

"Uh, could you help me out of this?" Ace offered him a sheepish smile. "I think I'm, uh, a little stuck."

Amusement flitted through the commander, and even he couldn't stop himself from having another good look at the tangled up teen. A mess of knots and cords entangled around his lithe form, and his hat was stuck a few notches below him, as if he had fallen a great height and only the ropes had saved him from a nasty fall.

But luckily for the kid, he was one of the nicer commanders. If it was Thatch or Haruta even, there'd be pictures all over the ship come morning. Namur hid a smile as he strode forward to begin the tedious task of freeing the fire-user.

"You have certainly gotten yourself into quite the mess, Ace," he commented after struggling for more than ten minutes at a particularly harsh knot.

Ace huffed. "Why don't you just cut them?"

"If that solved the problem, I'd have you just burn them. We need them to keep the ship going, and these ones are hard to replace."

The kid looked away, as if guilty. "Oh." His features then morphed into curiosity. "What were you going to do at the crow's nest?"

Namur glanced at him. "I'm on watch duty tonight."

"Can I come?"

"It'll hardly be fun. If excitement is what you're looking for…"

Ace practically vibrated in his locked prison. "Please? We can stay up all night talking and I hear you have all these stories about your fishing island and I have mine from this tiny island back at East Blue and I can right?"

Namur blinked. "Fishman Island," he corrected absent-mindedly. He seemed to think it over. "I suppose you can. Just don't complain when you do get bored." He ruffled the kid's messy hair. "Now sit still," he ordered gruffly.

Ace beamed and complied obediently.

* * *

The sounds of metal clashing against metal and the screams of dying men were distant to him, and the battlefield blurred into a mess of vague images around him as his focus suddenly zeroed on the man – boy – or, well, his brother on the other side of the clearing. He didn't know what made him look but he had, his neck snapping to the side so fast a crack jolted through his back.

Jozu seemed to wait with bated breath even as he threw his adversary into a tree about a hundred yards away. The fire-user, no, the kid (because heck it was confusing when there are two fire-users on board now) blasted his opponents with a column of fire, the flames sending a wave of heat throughout the empty field even from where he stood. Blades of grass withered while others waved violently under the sudden onslaught of wind. Then- then, to his alarm, the kid keeled over in a dead heap.

"Ace!"

Jozu was already running towards the unconscious teen, and from the earlier shout, Marco must have noticed too for a flaming Phoenix was already slowing from his dive to get to Ace.

"What happened, yoi?" the first commander demanded. Marco looked at him, his eyes bright and anxious.

The third commander answered just as quickly: "I don't know. He took down a group of his opponents and suddenly just fell. There wasn't anyone around him when he did."

The blonde narrowed his eyes. He rolled the limp body onto his back and his hands ran frantically over the kid as if to find any sign of injury. He then pressed two fingers against the pulse in the youngest' neck. "There's nothing-" A thought occurred to him. "A devil fruit user?"

Jozu frowned. He tried to recall his knowledge of the Greenhorn pirates. There were devil fruit users – two, if he was right – but none had the powers to drive someone into unconsciousness like this. Besides, they were exactly as they were named: greenhorn. Only their numbers were great. "I don't think so," he said helplessly at the increasingly impatient Phoenix.

Fossa appeared behind them. "What's going on?"

"The kid just fainted on us. We don't know why."

The fifteenth commander looked alarmed. "What?"

Ignoring the two of them, the blonde pushed the unconscious teen towards them. "Which ones were nearest to him when he fell, yoi?"

Jozu pointed them out.

Blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He gestured at Ace. "Protect him," he ordered before morphing into his Phoenix form and lunging at the other pirates. Both Fossa and Jozu surrounded the teen while the first commander brutally slammed one of the opposing pirates into the ground.

"What did you do to him?!"

The rookie blanched in fear. "I d-didn't do anything!" he squeaked. His arms waved wildly.

With a snarl, Marco kneed him in the gut hard enough that the man coughed out flecks of blood. The routine went on for another few unfortunate pirates but, to their dismay, none admitted their part in their current predicament. Their present family members were already catching on to his injury and were quick to emulate their oldest brother's deadly assault against their enemies. For his part, Ace lied quietly beneath the two commanders' watch, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing around him.

Jozu reached out and slapped his cheeks lightly; the teen didn't even move.

"It's like he's only asleep," Fossa commented.

Jozu gave him an uneasy look. "Don't say that," he muttered. "It's never good to say that." That was often only said for the dead.

"Right. Sorry."

The minutes dragged by until the battle finally ceased and with it the Greenhorn pirates who lay in various forms of unconsciousness, scattered across the field. The Whitebeards breathed heavily, as if in a daze, looking towards each other as if asking 'what next?'. Their trance was broken when Marco cursed and flung the man in his hands away from him. Blue eyes swept across his family, before landing on Ace. He started towards them.

"How is he, yoi?"

Jozu and Fossa answered at the same time: "Still the same."

Marco's features darkened. He fell to his knees then, hooked an arm beneath the teen's knees and another behind his back, before lifting the deadweight to rest against his chest. "I'm taking him to the infirmary." He flicked a glance at Jozu. "You're in charge."

The pirate in question inclined his head. "I understand."

Without answering, the blonde began his sprint back to the Moby Dick.

* * *

Marco kept sure to avoid the only town on the island, and dashed through a cluster of trees to get to the hidden shore where their ship was anchored. Wind slapped against his features, Ace dangled lifelessly in his arms, and his heart pounded in his chest. It didn't help he didn't have a clue as to what ailed the younger pirate. Yet, for some reason, he suspected it had nothing to do with those Greenhorns either.

He had heard, of course, whispers among his family that Ace wasn't…well, normal. There had been occasions where they'd find him doing something completely out of place and sometimes the kid managed the feat of freaking them out. Whitebeards did not freak out, especially when they had so many siblings whose various eccentricities had forced them to accept that people were as different as shades of a rainbow. Though he knew that they tried to keep these from him out of worry _he'd_ freak out and scare their newest youngest away.

Just then, as if he hadn't already had his share of potential heart attacks, the kid in his arms stirred. Grey eyes fluttered open even as Marco dug his heels into the dirt-caked ground, sending flecks of soil into the air.

"Wha..what?" The same grey eyes tried to focus on him blearily. "Marco?" he asked, confused. He made a visible effort to stand up when he realised he couldn't. Or, to be more specific, when the reality of their positions sank into his thick head. A heated flush crept up his cheeks and he shoved a fist at the blonde commander, who didn't budge an inch.

Marco pinned the fire-user with an anxious look. "Are you okay, yoi?"

Incredulity plastered itself across the other's freckled features. "How about explaining why you're carrying me like a girl?" he retorted. He pointedly wriggled but the older man ignored his attempts to get free.

"Are you hurt?"

Ace frowned. "No."

"You feel okay?"

The scepticism morphed into annoyance. "Just what the hell is going on, Marco?"

Marco drew back, and part of him had to hold back the urge to yell at the kid to cooperate, for he sure as hell deserved an explanation after _that_. "We were on the battlefield, and you just dropped, yoi. You wouldn't wake up either and none of the Greenhorn pirates admitted to anything."

The teen just looked plain confused at his answer, his eyebrows furrowing to meet into a slanted 'V', before his expression suddenly cleared. A hint of crimson crept up his neck and coloured his cheeks a faint red hue. "Oh," he mumbled.

Marco blinked. Somehow that sounded more suspicious than… "You know what happened," he said slowly, almost accusing. His voice turned hard when the kid didn't respond. "What happened, yoi?"

Ace seemed to shrink from his gaze. He looked away. "At least let me down, you stupid bird," he muttered.

An eyebrow twitched. "Say that one more time and you'd need me to carry you back." He let the threat hang in the air for a moment before complying and set the kid on his feet, albeit more gently than he would have liked. If it turned out to be some sick prank, he was going to kick the darn brat straight into half a year's worth of chores.

Ace shot him a grateful look, but wasted little time in putting distance between them. "You see," he began carefully when the Phoenix followed his every move. "I ran out, of my, uh…" – the last part came out as an almost inaudible mumble – "medication."

Medication? Why did he need medication? Ace must have seen the confusion on his features, or the unanswered question was really too obvious, for he sighed. "I have narcolepsy." He crossed his arms and scowl twisted his features. "I suffer from sudden sleep attacks," he said flatly.

"Sleep attacks?"

"Yes."

Marco blinked. "You just fall asleep at any time or place?"

"Yes."

"Randomly? No control over it, yoi?"

The glare deepened. "Yes and yes."

Okay. Wait. That meant Ace had… Blue eyes widened at the implications. "You fell asleep in a battle," he said to himself, as if trying to convince his own head that that had happened. "Why didn't you tell us, yoi?"

Ace turned his back on the blonde. "What for? There was no reason to."

"No reason to?" Marco repeated, a thin line of disbelief coating his words. "You fell asleep in _battle_ , Ace. What if you were alone, yoi? They would have slaughtered you!"

The kid spun on his heels to glower heatedly at the older pirate. "Don't be so overdramatic. I'm here, aren't I? I made it here long before I met you guys and I'm still _here_."

"That's not the point!" the blonde snapped. "We were _worried_ about you. We thought you were injured, or worse, yoi!"

"Well then maybe you just worry too damned much!"

"I wouldn't if you stop giving me a reason to."

Ace's lips thinned. " _Get over it._ "

Marco recoiled. Maybe it was the kid's tender age, but never had he a brother or sister who was at this level of difficult. His hands curled into fists and for a moment he wondered what the others would say if he beat some sense into the brat. Not that he would have. As if to stop him from heading down that path, the sound of rushing footsteps caught his attention before a group of his brothers skidded to a halt next to them.

"Ace!" Thatch exclaimed, a note of relief all too obvious in his voice. "We heard what happened and…" He paused, his gaze darting between the two. "Are we interrupting something?"

"No, yoi." Marco threw the fire-user a cold glare. "We just finished. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than babysit." Blue flames encircled his form and he took off with a strong flap of his wings. The last thing he heard before he flew out of range was Thatch's exasperated voice.

"You both are fighting _again_?"

* * *

It didn't escape the crew's attention that both of their fire-users were avoiding each other. Ace didn't sit with the commanders for the entire week, something that seemed to greatly offend their oldest brother, and his smile-inducing tendency to cling to the blonde whenever he could have all but stopped. For his part, Marco pretended nothing was amiss.

A week went by until finally Izo refused to tolerate it anymore. He knew the only thing stopping the two idiots from reconciling were their oversized egos and, of course, their utter stupidity. He found the younger fire-user sprawled by their adoptive father's feet as their captain took his afternoon nap.

"How long are you going to allow this to last?" he demanded.

Ace shifted his attention to the kimono-clad pirate lazily. "What?"

"You, Marco, fight, end, _when_?"

The kid leaned up on his elbows, his eyebrows rising in an eerie imitation of the very man he was avoiding like the plaque. "I didn't realise you were that inarticulate." He held up his hands immediately to avoid a blow to his head. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"

Izo glared at him. "How long?" he repeated.

Ace scowled. "Why does it matter to you?" he muttered under his breath. Louder, as if to prevent the older pirate from answering, he said, "I just, he seems pretty mad this time."

The commander said flatly, "You're avoiding him because you're scared of him?"

The teen looked offended. "No!" He glanced at his slumbering captain and lowered his voice. "Of course not."

"Then what's the problem?" Izo asked, his patience waning. "Do you know why he's mad?"

Ace's lower lip jutted out to complete the sullen look he saw fit to pull. "Yes," he admitted.

Ah. Izo narrowed his dark eyes. "Do you think he's wrong to be mad?"

A heavy pause. "What do you know?" Ace asked suspiciously.

This time, Izo was the one to shoot the younger a condescending look. "Enough to know I'm brothers with two of the biggest idiots in the four seas." He shrugged. "Minus Thatch."

Ace snorted. "Yeah, yeah."

"Well, answer the question!"

"…no."

"There we go." Izo drew back, satisfied. A wide smile stretched his lips and he felt a tinge of satisfaction at the wary look the younger one graced him with. His smile widened. "I expect you both to have made up by the time dinner ends tonight." He patted his brother's hair tenderly. "Don't disappoint me."

* * *

Halfway through dinner, the doors opened to reveal one Portgas D. Ace, who wasted little time to get to other end of the mess hall. His freckled countenance was hard and unyielding, and the commanders could have sworn his grey eyes gleamed with a strange light when he rested his gaze on one Marco the Phoenix. For his part, the blonde commander looked back calmly, his usual bored look firmly in place.

To their surprise, Ace marched past the table laden with food and instead stopped to face them a few metres away. He took a moment to glance at Whitebeard, who only smiled, when a muted silence fell over the crew.

The teen cleared his throat. "I have a confession to make," he announced. Without pausing, he carried on with all the steel in the world. "I'm narcoleptic, which means I can fall asleep at any given time or place. I can't control it. Nor can I give you any warning before it happens." A deep breath later and he bowed. "I apologise for all the trouble. Again."

The silence turned deafening, until someone shouted, "You mean you fell asleep when I found you in the showers?"

A hushed chatter sprang up.

"He could have drowned!"

"Narco-wha? Never heard of it."

"So he _is_ normal…"

As the crew spoke amongst themselves, Ace left his father's side to stand before Marco, his expression hard again. He ignored the stares drilling into his back as his family's attention was once again drawn back to him. His eyes met blue.

This time, he bowed so low his hat did fall off. A hand shot out to grab it. "I apologise for worrying you." He paused. "Thank you for looking out for me."

The scraping of a chair being pulled back and a few footsteps later, and his cowboy hat was placed gently on his head. The teen looked up to see a smirk. A rough hand pushed his head lower gently.

"Anytime, brat."

...

Thatch. "They grow up so fast."

"Shut up!"

"Eat your food, yoi."

* * *

 **There it is. :/ For some reason, I'm really not sure about this chapter. Might be the beginnings of a writer's block, I don't know.**

 **Anyway, let me know what you think or if you have any requests, hey? (And I know I include Marco a lot but he's one of my favourite characters. I can't help it...)**


	4. When Ace tries to be a little brother

**Hello everyone!**

 **Again, thank you for the kind reviews, favourites and follows. I know this chapter should have gone up yesterday but I finished it a little late and I had to go to sleep before I could edit it. You know, what's with work and basically life and all that. These stories won't feed us. Even now, I'm writing this on my phone.  
**

 **One of you requested a chapter on Haruta, and here it is. I know it may not be what you're looking for, but this is my take on it. Family's complicated, right? If we can argue and scream and yell at our own siblings on a daily basis, I doubt Ace's entry into their life would be all rainbows and chocolate cakes.  
**

 **On a side-note, here's my thoughts to Reader-san in response to your question:**

 **First off, thank you! I love to read your thoughts on Ace and his dynamics with the Whitebeards and Luffy, Sabo and everyone.  
**

 **Okay, I'm answering based on what I remember you said, 'cause typing on my phone and switching between tabs is heck annoying. I do agree that the relationship between Ace and the Spades Pirates is held close to his heart. All his life, he had to remain hidden from the world and the only people he fully trusted is Luffy, Sabo and, not quite surprisingly, his grandfather. He also, I believe, trusts Dadan, the mountain bandits and Makino on a fundamental level as they have always been there and never took advantage of his admittedly vulnerable younger self.  
**

 **With his whole trust issues in mind, I doubt he would willingly travel with people he didn't trust. He cares for them in a way he does for nakama, and I believe there is the inherent desire to cultivate as close a relationship as he could with nakama, one that has been influenced partly by Luffy's own ideals and his own want for acceptance. However, I don't think he would allow himself to take the leap and divulge his inner most secrets or even much of his past at the innate fear that they would turn against him should they discover his true identity. Unlike Luffy, he doesn't trust in the goodness of the world, and has been too conditioned into believing that he is only the spawn of the late Pirate King- one who is stubborn and wants to live, but questions if his existence is fair to the world.  
**

 **Because of this handicap, I doubt he sees that his crew cares for him to the extent they came after him, fully knowing their rescue mission was futile. And yes, they did choose to stay with the Whitebeards, for when they first joined the Spade Pirates, they pledged to stay with Ace until the end, though it was only reinforced when Ace tried to save them from imminent capture or death at Whiteboard's hands. Which I doubt was the first time. When Ace cares for another, despite never holding them to do the same, he cares for them unconditionally. And I can imagine how much pride he has in being captain and being responsible for an entire crew's lives, hopes and dreams.  
**

 **Well, that's my thoughts on the issue. Oops, rambled a little. Sorry about that.**

 **With that said, throw me any questions you guys have and I will answer. :) Please do enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think, or if you have any requests.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: When Ace tries to be a little brother**

"And this is where I hide all the time whenever Thatch tries to find me," Haruta whispered, gesturing discreetly at a tiny opening in the wall that was partially hidden by a huge potted pitcher trap. Ace eyed the carnivorous plant, as if worried the still creature would lunge at him and drown him in its digestive fluid.

"Ace?" A sigh followed after when the commander caught the fire-user's look. He grabbed the teen's arm and must have tried to give him a soothing smile, though it looked more exasperated than warm. "Larry won't eat you, for goodness' sake, so stop looking at him like that!"

Ace tilted his head. "Larry?" His gaze flickered to the innocent-looking _thing_. "You named that Larry?"

Haruta coughed. "We have all kinds of names for our plants," he muttered. "And Fossa's the one who insists on keeping them here anyway! Not that I'm surprised. Even his name is like a plant's."

Something uneasy twisted in the younger's stomach as his mind automatically latched onto a memory a few days back.

" _Toshi was taken! Tom ate him, Tom ate him! Marco? Marco-taichou, do something!"_

The image of some fifth division member running towards a weary Marco faded from his head when Haruta snapped for his attention again. "Huh?" he asked even as he took an unwitting step away from the pitcher trap. That was such a pathetic way to die. Portgas D. Ace, death by carnivorous plant on his ship home.

The commander frowned at him. "Do you want me to teach you the ropes or not?" he demanded. "I'm taking time out to teach you and you keep on daydreaming instead." He crossed his arms, an unhappy scowl pulling at his lips.

The teen drew back at the plain hostility in his brother's voice. What was his problem? He'd been following him around since morning when the petite pirate had all but forced him along to whatever he had planned. He was shoved into tiny, hidden corners on the Moby Dick, given armful of textbooks (what in the Grand Line was that?!) filled with all the information a seafarer should know, lectured on which brother to go to when which brother was pissed off… Haruta wouldn't even let him eat with Marco and Thatch for lunch.

The urge to snap back fell heavy on his tongue. He sighed. The guy was older than him, right? Older brother. Commander-level. And he was just some rookie and a plain ol' member of the second division.

"I'm sorry for my inattention," he said as he bowed, a little. "I didn't mean to offend you."

The brunette scratched at his hair at the brief silence before he waved him away. "Yeah, whatever." He then pointed at the opening he had pointed out earlier. "Now, come on. Get in there already."

Ace started. "What? I won't fit!"

"Of course you would! I did!"

The fire-user gave the commander a pointed look over. Sarcasm coated his words. "Because you're smaller than me?"

Haruta rolled his eyes. He placed two hands on the younger's back and pushed the unwilling pirate towards the hiding spot, holding back a laugh as the teen yelped and ducked to avoid getting too near Larry.

"Stop whining and do what I say!" he ordered.

Ace pawed at the rough edges lining the entryway and tried to brush aside the doubt that he'd get all the way through. Not that it mattered. If he didn't, he'd just burn the wooden panelling out of his way (and possibly incinerate that shudder-inducing monster plant too); there was no way in hell he was going to risk humiliating himself by getting stuck in some obscure corner of the ship.

He snuck a heated glare at the brunette. Stupid brothers and their stupid orders. He could swear Haruta was enjoying this too.

"Well get on with it! We don't have all day!"

Yeah, the tiny pirate was really milking it for all it was worth.

…

He really should have been nicer to Luffy.

* * *

Thatch crossed his arms, dark eyebrows lifting at the sight of the two pirates on deck. Well, there were others who milled about but no, they weren't his main point of focus on the moment. Resting two arms on the edge of the railings that prevented any unfortunate pirate from falling from the crow's nest, he watched as one teenager followed after one nagging commander across the deck. They would have attracted stares, had they not been at it for almost a week now.

"This," he said slowly, "could be a problem."

Izo followed his gaze. "I can see why you'd say that."

Both commanders fell silent when Haruta suddenly paused and chastised their newest brother for his lack of attention. It came as a little surprise when the fire-user only nodded in sincere contrition, which only seemed to irk the twelfth commander more, though he simply walked on, fully expecting the kid to trot after him. Which he did, much to Thatch's annoyance.

What pissed him off more, though, was the fire-user's appearance.

Ace looked hell tired. Dark circles coloured the skin beneath his tired grey eyes and he moved with a notable lack of the vibrant energy the crew was growing accustomed to. The kid hadn't even sat with them at lunch for almost a week, and he barely spoke to them anymore too. The chef knew he wasn't the only who had noticed. Marco's gaze followed the kid almost everywhere now, and the other commanders had chipped in as well.

…except Haruta.

Whom they suspected was the cause of this whole fiasco. It did happen soon after he made Ace his favourite little companion…

Izo clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Haruta should have told us it bothered him."

Thatch rested a cheek on his fist. "He should have, but kids are kids," he agreed. After a moment, he wondered aloud, "I wonder how long Marco's going to let this go on."

A dignified snort. "Not for long. If it wasn't so complicated, I think he would have stopped it ages ago."

"You think?"

"Probably. You know how he gets about Ace."

Light shudders shook the chef's shoulders as he tried to stifle a giggle at that thought. "You'd think Ace was his son, for all his hovering. Would suit his age though."

Izo threw him a look of mild disgust. "I'll do you a favour and not tell him you said that, but only because we don't need the two of you squabbling like children at a time like this." He brushed imaginary specks of dust from the front of his kimono, gave his brother one last look, before leaving through the ladder that led to the deck. He could have jumped, but of course he would never risk his outward appearance when there was no need to.

Thatch smiled to himself as he re-attached his focus on the other two pirates below. Hmmm… He hoped they could get this settled by the end of this week, at least. They had raids to do, islands to protect, and pranks to be made.

No one had time for petty resentment.

* * *

Ace snuck a glance down the hallway. When no signs of life greeted him, he quietly loped on bare feet across the empty space, only to halt at the next juncture to watch for further late-night goers. This process repeated a few more times before he finally reached the deck. His gaze searched for his adoptive father's gigantic chair and his insides sank. Whitebeard must have retired for the night.

He barely suppressed a sigh. Of course his captain had. It was, what? Two plus in the morning? It certainly would explain the annoying ache that stretched from his shoulders to his arms to the back of his neck; it was nothing he couldn't brush off, but it tore at his peaceful sleep until he could do no more than toss and turn. It didn't help that he had to bunk with other members of his division either. Goodness know how many times he heard a grumble or two at his own restlessness.

The fire-user's thoughts strayed to the not-so-comfortable corners he used to sleep in before taking Oyaji's mark. Should he..? Even Haruta didn't know of those locations.

 _And aren't you just pathetic?_ A mocking voice rang through his head. _Hiding away even when you're one of them?_

 _Oh, just shut up!_ He thought crossly. Family was complicated. He should never have been surprised when Haruta had treated him with less than…enthusiasm. Heck, he should have known there were drawbacks to having so many others treating him so kindly. And even that he didn't know how long it'd last.

And as if to remind him nothing was perfect, the twelfth commander had recently made it his mission to personally take Ace under his wing and tutor him in the art of pirating, seafaring and, weirdly enough, being a little brother. Pfft. He didn't need coaching for that last one. And who in the Grand Line made the absurd rule that having an older sibling automatically made one hapless, incapable, weak and clueless fool? Sure Luffy was a stupid idiot, but that wasn't enough reason for Ace to abandon his dream just so he could stay by Luffy's side forever.

Luffy was going to be strong someday, and he'd pursue his own dreams no matter what. Ace could either suck it up and let him grow, or cling to his side and be the reason his little brother never reached his true potential.

He had made his choice. For as long as they were brothers on the same seas and under the same sky, they would reunite someday. That was all that mattered.

But now the fire-user was on a ship- _full_ of brothers and sisters, and there were bound to be those who wouldn't like him as much or found it hard to accept this new guy on the ship. Luffy would have told him to find only nakama who cared for who he was, but who'd have known he'd find nakama in so many people? This wasn't _his_ crew, per se. He was part of this crew. It wasn't like he could only recruit only those he liked, and liked him in return, like he had when he was Captain of the Spades Pirates.

This was a problem, however. A part of Haruta didn't sit well with his new position in the crew. The brunette's countenance often darkened whenever Marco – or any of the commanders, really – spoke with him, his replies were curt and cool whenever they sat at the same lunch table, and the commander never stayed on deck when Ace came to sit with Oyaji. That, plus other minute details, rang the alarm bells as clear as it was headache-inducing.

It didn't really bother him, no. He had yet to _like_ Haruta before this, and while he harboured no ill feelings towards the pirate, his actions were only hurtful if Ace held a certain expectation out of him- expectations that he only placed on those whom he had grown to care for as friends and family. And not just because circumstance declared them as one.

What really pulled at his patience was the need to tolerate the brunette. He didn't want to spend his life with Haruta harbouring quiet resentment against him, but neither did he want to have to follow stupid instructions just to please the commander. This could go on only for so long…

Ace exhaled noiselessly. Yeah, well, whatever. What he needed now was a good night's sleep. He certainly was not going to get it if Haruta kept testing him on some stupid all-things-a-seafarer-should-know questions. He wasn't stupid – at least, he didn't think he was – but he didn't become a pirate to _study_.

Squaring his shoulders, the teen marched resolutely to Whitebeard's room and knocked on the door. At the lack of answer, Ace bit his lip, wondering if he should just head up to that hidden corner he still knew intimately well as a last resort. Before he could decide, the door opened to reveal Marco, who sported the same look of general disinterest at his appearance.

"Ace, yoi," he murmured. He stepped back to allow the teen to step through. "You're still awake."

Ace eyed him curiously even as his feet padded across the warm wooden flooring. His attention shifted when a felt a pair of knowing eyes drilled into him.

"You're…still awake," he said lamely when his adoptive father grinned at him.

"Come here, son," the giant instructed. He patted an empty spot on the side of his bed.

Ace obediently obeyed while Marco took to the seat across from him. Light flared from the oiled lamps, casting an iridescent array of warm, brownish-gold hues across the captain's room. Shadows danced at the hidden corners, towered over fancy-looking books, and hid behind spaces where the light could not reach them. If the teen focused hard enough, he could see specks of dust twirl in the air.

"You couldn't sleep again?"

The freckled pirate started from his drifting thoughts at the quiet yet definitive voice. He clutched at his fingers. "I…" His throat swallowed up the same way it had the first time he had approached the captain the first night after he had taken up the mark. He sighed and tried again. "Yeah."

His gaze rested on Marco, who had taken to reading a thick, leather-bound book, his back resting against the back of the high backed chair. A pair of reading glasses sat on his nose.

Blue eyes darted up to lock on his even as the first commander flipped a page. "I couldn't sleep either, yoi," he answered the unspoken question.

Oh. "Oh."

A warm laugh intruded on the ensuing silence. Both of the younger pirates looked towards their captain, who shot them both a look of such fondness it made a blush creep up Ace's cheek. Marco only smiled, a small one though it was.

"Such a joy to be a father," Whitebeard was rumbling. "To have two sons come to me at this time of night because they couldn't sleep." His eyes twinkled as they shifted to Ace. "I only wish you had joined us earlier. Marco has never done this before."

Ace's grey eyes widened fractionally. He noted how his older brother tensed, and that was all the confirmation he needed. A smile brightened his features at the thought of Marco seeking some semblance of comfort from his father on the nights he couldn't rest quite well. See? He _was_ normal. Everyone else who didn't think so were just too…well, they just had yet to see it.

A little more at ease, Ace looked up to his captain. "Will you tell me a story?"

A slow grin stretched across the giant man's features. "You only have to ask, son." He shifted slightly. "Come now, make yourself comfortable."

Ace nodded and immediately complied. In hindsight, his definition of 'comfortable' might have differed from theirs, for when he just fell on his back to rest against his adoptive father's arm, the two just stared at him before the Yonko laughed again. Ace really had to find out if the man's laughter was in answer to awkward situations, when he didn't know what to say, or for when he was just amused.

Marco simply sighed.

"What kind of story would you like to hear?"

"One with lots of adventure!"

Whitebeard arched an eyebrow. "And lots of fighting?" he guessed.

Ace nodded vigorously. "Yeah!"

"And food?" Marco said dryly.

The youngest pirate's nods turned almost violent. "That sounds perfect!"

The blonde rolled his eyes. He quietly put away his book. "I think the one where I joined you should do, Oyaji." He paused. "Or when Thatch first met Izo, yoi." At Ace's questioning look, he smirked. "He mistook Izo for a woman."

Ace spluttered. Izo was really pretty, but he certainly was no woman.

Whitebeard hushed them. Before the Yonko could start though, Ace shot up, his arms flailing. "No!" he whispered loudly. He pointed at the first commander. "He hasn't settled down yet!"

Marco threw him a baffled look, before understanding dawned on him. His eyebrow twitched. "No, yoi."

"But-" The freckled pirate cut himself short. He sighed. It wouldn't work anyway. "Fine," he muttered.

The blonde blinked, as if surprised the teen had given up so fast. "But what?" he asked slowly.

Ace fell on his back. His voice was flat. "Nothing."

"Ace."

The younger fire-user scowled at the tired but bordering on weary voice. "It's just…It's a _story_ ," he stressed out the word. His frown deepened at the utter childishness of his words. His mind suddenly conjured a memory of Haruta warning him in a stern, no-nonsense voice not to wheedle too much out of his older siblings.

" _Don't pester them all the time for their attention. They're busy and they have things to do other than-"_

" _Why the hell would I do that? It's not like I'm starving for their attention."_

 _A glare. "I am_ trying _to teach you stuff here. Are you going to listen to me or not?"_

 _A muted silence._

" _Well?!"_

"… _fine."_

" _Good. Now, but if you really, really need something – and this only works for people like us – just give them really sad faces and they'll melt like a puddle."_

" _People like…us?"_

 _A roll of the eyes. "Yes, you dolt! Come on, Ace. I thought you were bright. We're the_ youngest _members! Our family are suckers for the youngest."_

"… _ahuh…"_

A soft sigh pervaded his thoughts. Ace watched in tensed anticipation as Marco took off his reading glasses to place it neatly on top of the book he had been reading. The teen was so sure the blonde would up and leave the room, but was instead stunned into silence when the first commander settled onto the empty spot on his captain's right. He swung his legs to rest beside the Yonko's, though it stopped short near the giant's waist. Marco and Whitebeard shared a look, before the former slumped and rolled his head against his father's upper arm.

Ace felt a part of him freeze in shock. Oh for the love of all things adventurous. Haruta was right. Haruta was so, so, unbelievably right. He had just convinced Marco the Phoenix to rest against the strongest man in the world like a child just by…well, just by…by not acting very adult-like.

"I suppose we can start now, yoi?"

Ace nodded dumbly. A large hand pushed at him to lie down and he did, eyes still wide.

Whitebeard cleared his throat. "Well, I remember it was a particularly splendid day at sea, and that must have been the first sign of good luck, for we all know how much cheer Thatch has brought to our lives, and still is. Your brother was on this uninhabited island in Paradise, the Kodokuna Island, or Island of the Lonely, drawing circles in the sand…"

His father's words eventually turned into a soothing mess of sounds that rose and fell in time with his breaths, and before he knew it, Ace was fast asleep. The last thing he remembered were the two pirates whispering, and a hand brushing at his hair.

* * *

" _Do as I say!" The shout reverberated through the forest._

 _Tiny feet stomped against the grass, as ineffective as it was cute. "Why?!"_

" _Because I'm the older one and I say you have to!"_

" _That's stupid! Ace is stupid! I can do what I want!"_

 _A smack on said little brother's rubbery head. "I'm doing this for you own good, idiot! What do you know?!"_

" _Better than you! Just because you're older doesn't make you better than me!"_

" _What was that?!"_

 _Stuck out a tongue. "Ace is being mean!"_

" _COME HERE!"_

" _AAh! NO!"_

Ace started awake. He sat up, and not for the first time was grateful for his devil fruit's powers when he noticed the covers that slid to his hip. If he hadn't the ability to stand the cold or very high temperatures, he would have been smothered by the thickness of the blankets. Pushing himself to his feet, he stretched, not surprised that both Whitebeard and Marco were no longer in the room. Judging from the light that filtered in through the slits in the window blinds, it must be time for breakfast.

He reached for his cowboy hat, fixed his mess of a hair, and dusted off his pants. Time to go, he thought.

As he prepared to leave the room, a stray thought danced before his mind's eye.

" _Because I'm the older one and I say you have to!"_

…

Being the little brother really wasn't as easy as he had thought.

* * *

Vista cracked an eye open when the two pirates passed by. His gaze followed them as the brunette paused to lean against Ace's ear, whispering goodness knows what, and pulling back when the fire-user nodded. Huh, the two were still attached at the hip. He wondered how long it'd last, for it sure didn't seem as if both enjoyed the close proximity. Well, if the two kids' flat expressions were of any indication.

The commander alternated between snoozing and jerking awake to immediately look for the two little rascals ('cause they were, for forcing him to take this new younger brother-watching duty) and snoozing again.

He was just about to fall into the realm of sleep again when his eye noted a sudden shift in the fire-user's stance. He was already up and running across the deck to catch the limp teen before he registered he was moving.

Haruta inhaled sharply. "Ace?"

Vista prodded at the unconscious kid. Pulse was a little slow. A little hot, but that could probably be attributed to his devil fruit power. No injuries. "I think," he said slowly. "I think he had a sleep attack. What was it again? Narcolepsy?"

The twelfth commander frowned. "I guess? Huh. He really did mean it when he said it'd happen any time."

At that moment, Marco and Izo came running.

"What's going on, yoi?"

"Narcolepsy. There's nothing wrong with him. He's probably asleep," Vista said mechanically.

"Probably," Marco repeated. He bent on one knee, his blue eyes deep in concentration.

"You know, we should get used to this," Izo remarked off-handedly. "Him falling unconscious and us not treating every attack like he got shot down by an enemy."

The first commander threw him an unreadable look. "This is a problem, yoi. Falling asleep at random could be his undoing. Aside from enemies, even a bowl of soup could kill him."

"Oh, come on, Marco, isn't that a little-" Haruta stopped, before incredulity plastered itself on his features. "Is that why we've been having nothing but dried food these past few weeks?"

Before the blonde could answer, the freckled pirate shot up. His head slammed against Vista's chin and both groaned. "Wha…"

"Gah, Ace, you could have warned me," Vista muttered as he rubbed the sore spot.

Ace shook his head at him. "Oops. Sorry?" He blinked when he noticed the cluster of pirates surrounding him. "Did you…need something?"

Marco looked about to respond when Izo nudged him in his gut. The blonde glared at the kimono-clad pirate, who smiled sweetly at the confused teen. "It was nothing. We were just curious how a sleep attack really looked like. The last time it happened we were a little too…preoccupied, you see."

Ace moved to stand up. He ignored the hands that reached out to help him. "Curious, huh." For some reason, the kid looked relieved. "At least that's all it was." He turned to Haruta. "So where were we again?"

The twelfth commander pursed his lips. "I'll tell you as we go," he said curtly. "Come on."

"No, yoi," Marco cut in before Ace could take no more than a step. "Both of you can take a break. You can always continue this tomorrow."

Haruta rolled his eyes. "I've only been teaching him the ropes," he retorted. "What's there to be tired about?"

The first commander pinned the brunette with a stern look. "The rate of a sleep attack is elevated by how exhausted one is." He paused. "It's only eleven in the morning."

"That's not really the case," Ace interjected. "There's really no set time."

"You don't usually fall asleep more when you're tired, yoi?" Marco asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, I guess, but-"

Haruta scoffed. "So what? It was just one attack, Marco." He grabbed at Ace's arm. "Come on, Ace. Let's go before our mother hen gets all ruffled over nothing."

Vista's eyebrows shot up at that. Whoa. Their little commander was fighting back. He shot an uneasy glance at Izo, who only shrugged impassively, his dark eyes watching the trio with an intensity that almost made him anxious.

Marco narrowed his eyes, and suddenly it was battle between two pairs of blue orbs, each so different from the other. But then, true to their oldest brother's calm nature and deep-set antipathy against arguments with family, he deflated, and at the same time murmuring, "I don't understand, yoi. There is no urgency to this. Why do you insist on doing it now?"

Haruta hesitated at the quietly spoken words, then looked away. "I'm a commander too. I don't see why you're the only one who gets to tell him what to do."

"I don't order him around, yoi," the blonde said slowly. "It's my job to look after everyone on this ship, and he's an experienced enough sailor as he is. There's no need to rush."

"That doesn't mean he has nothing else to learn!" Haruta argued.

"I didn't mean that. But cramming everything into his head is not the answer, yoi."

"What if there were battles? What if he needs help?"

"Then we'll be there to assist-"

"Oh, for the love of-" Ace suddenly shouted. He shoved a hand through the mess of dark locks, his cowboy hat pushed off to rest on his back. "That's it! This is enough. I won't take this anymore." He glared at the two commanders. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Talking about me as if I'm not even here? And do I even get a choice in this?" he demanded.

Before anyone could answer, he shoved an accusing finger at Marco. "Stop treating me like a kid! You're right, I can hold my own just fine. Just because I'm the damned youngest doesn't mean I can't take care of myself." When the blonde parted his lips to speak, he rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I know there's mountains of stuff I've yet to learn and it'll take years before I can take _you_ on, but that doesn't make me weak. You're just insanely strong."

He turned to Haruta and, for a moment, his eyes seemed to be on fire. His voice lowered, though it didn't lose any of its weight. "And you, Haruta, need to wake up," he said sharply. "You're _you_ and I am _me_. Nothing can change that. Just like Luffy will always be my idiot little brother, suddenly having you guys as my extended family doesn't change a thing about that fact." He paused, his grey eyes digging into Haruta's clear blue ones. "Are we clear on that?"

Silence answered him, and his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Yes," Haruta finally answered, his features a little pale.

Ace slid his dark look to rest on the first commander.

The blonde only sighed. "Yes, yoi. You're super strong and you look scary enough without that look on your face," he said dryly.

The freckled teen let out a hiss. "Good. Or I'll burn everything you both own to a crisp." With that said, he turned on his heels and stalked away, his faint mutterings still loud enough for them to hear. "Good gosh, being a little brother is _hard_."

"You know," Vista commented after a moment. "Ace is more an older brother than a little brother, if you get what I mean. He has that parent and no-nonsense tone right down to a T."

Izo looked amused. "Must be because he has a younger brother himself."

"Maybe."

Marco shook his head, as if weary at the world. "Doesn't change the fact he's still a brat, yoi," he muttered. He glanced at Haruta and his features softened. "Come on, Haruta. We need to talk."

As the first commander steered their second youngest away, Vista gave a huge yawn. Well, now that that was finally over, he could return to his beauty sleep, somehow. He waved at the kimono-clad pirate and hurried away, just in case fate saw it fit to throw him another obstacle to overcome before he could return to doing nothing.

* * *

That night, Ace snuck into Whitebeard's room again, but was unsurprised to see Marco already there, his nose deep in the same book he had been reading the night before. Their captain had left the room to check on something that he refused to say.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked lightly.

Marco hummed in affirmative. He flipped a page. "My brothers keep giving me a headache, yoi," he said flippantly. "One is acting his age while the other is as unpredictable as the weather."

Ace smirked. "What? Even your regenerative powers can't fix that little pain in your head?"

"We can't have all things perfect."

The younger pirate snickered at the simple answer. He proceeded to jump on the bed, his body immediately taking to sprawling across the mattress. He looked up to see a look of exasperation and, again, fondness. Gah, these pirates and their sentimentality. What was wrong with them? Ignoring the brush of unease at the look, he patted the spot next to him in invitation.

"Oyaji would need space to sleep, Ace," Marco reminded.

"Well, yeah, he can take the spot next to you. Easier for him to get in and you wouldn't have to wait for him to return before you can settle in too."

The blonde raised an eyebrow at that. "Who said I was going to-" He shook his head. "Never mind, yoi."

He got up and slid into place, the palms of his hands resting below his head. "Ace?" he asked after a comfortable silence.

"Yeah?"

Ace tilted his head to see cerulean eyes regarding him coolly. "Tell me about your brother, yoi."

The teen blinked. "I've told you about him…" Not that he minded. He loved speaking about Luffy, for no other reason than he just did.

The corners of the blonde's lips twitched. "Tell me again?"

And because there was no set rule that dictated only the older ones could get indulgent, Ace did just that.

* * *

Marco closed his eyes when Ace's soft voice faded into silence, knowing that his brother had finally succumbed to the night's weary calls. Well, that certainly answered his questions.

…

Ace was trying out every single one of his younger brother's reactions to an older brother's whims.

…

He sighed, though whether in amusement or concern, he didn't know.

The kid took things too literally.

* * *

 **Well, that's it. And for those who were wondering, Ace was a little worried they had drawn on his face while he was asleep. I could have sworn I was going to say something else but I can't seem to recall what it is.**

 **Was this chapter a little on the boring side, though? I can't really tell since, well, I wrote it and we don't see stories we wrote the same as readers do.**

 **Do let me know what you think? :)**


	5. When Ace is…well, Ace

**Hello everyone!**

 **Once again, thank you so much for the reviews, favourites and follows! I'm going take a wild guess and assume many of you don't really care for Haruta (to be honest, I don't really, either). I even had one reviewer admitting that chapters with Haruta never really caught said reviewer's interest.**

 **In any case, this chapter focuses more on Thatch, Marco, a little bit of Whitebeard and of course, Ace. This is, however, a request that nearly had me pulling at my hair, though I enjoyed writing it out. I'm not quite sure if it turned out the way you wanted (you know who you are!) but this is it. A fine challenge. For the others, can you guess the prompt?**

 **I wasn't really sure if I should publish this chapter (it just seemed...different) but I've already written it and this fic is for one-shots anyway, so ta-daa! Do let me know what you think!**

 **To Reader-san, I definitely will! I'll probably drop you a DM tomorrow night, so I'll explain there, okay? I'm so sorry I haven't responded though!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: When Ace is…well, Ace**

"I still can't believe you did that."

Ace looked at his feet. His shoulders were hunched and his hands clutched against the rough fabric of his pant's pockets. The brim of his cowboy hat shadowed his eyes, concealing the guilt that shone bright and horrid in the grey orbs. A little ways in front of him, Thatch walked stiffly, his back so tense he seemed ready to spring at any sign of danger.

" _Why_ would you do something like that?" the chef asked again, the strain almost making his voice grow hoarse. His footsteps faltered, before he continued in the same determined gait towards the kitchens. Ace knew he had no choice but to follow.

"No, don't answer that," Thatch said again in that same dreadful voice. "I don't want to hear it."

Ace bit his lip. His insides twisted into something horrible. He almost felt like retching, as it is, to throw out any sense of self-righteousness or guilt or any darned part of him that convinced him to let this happen; to allow Thatch – cheerful, happy Thatch – into getting this upset. The idea of eating was almost too much at the moment.

Both pirates walked in heavy silence after that. Any siblings they bumped into parted as they passed by, quiet and questioning as the two, known for their antics and overly loud behaviours, drifted down the corridors with an air reminiscent of one in deep upset. When they came upon the kitchens, Thatch all but ordered his staff out even as he got to work. For his part, Ace stood by the doors, opting to avoid the seats and instead sank into his own dark thoughts.

It could have been forever, but that half hour felt as if it stretched for miles. It felt like a child would have when a disappointed parent is forced to pick up after his or her mess. Too afraid to offer help less the parent explodes further, and yet too afraid not to. And too afraid to say a word.

A soft _clink_ of plates being set on the table and a cough broke the fire-user out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Thatch seated at one of the rectangular tables, his dark eyes locking on his, unreadable yet firm. Dishes of all kinds were placed in neat order on the table top. The knot in the teen's chest grew heavier. It wasn't enough, he knew. He wondered how his brother would react to that.

Dutifully, he came forward, took the proffered spoon and started on the midday meal. He ate slowly. Bite, chew, swallow. Bite, chew, swallow. Drink. Repeat. Tried as he might, he couldn't completely ignore the stern gaze that rested on him every so often. It only grew harder when Thatch finished with his meal and set it aside.

When less than a quarter of the food was left, the head chef must have realised it wasn't enough, for he stood up, the chair screeching in complaint, to get more food. Empty plates were replaced with those laden with meat and vegetables, while empty jugs were filled to the brim.

As he ate, Ace felt his stomach protest. The food was amazing, but his throat felt like gagging every time he swallowed and the smell made him nauseous. _Traitor_ , his mind screamed every time he chewed. _Traitor, traitor, traitor._

 _Shut up_ , he snarled back. He shoved the ugly thoughts into a repressed corner of his head. This was his duty. It was the only thing he could do to compensate for hurting his new brother so badly. Although he hadn't known the fourth commander would take it so hard…

At that moment, Thatch broke the near silence with a harsh whisper, "It's still not enough?" His dark eyes met Ace's, filled with a kind of horror at the creeping realisation of the truth the fire-user had been trying to keep from them for months. "I'll…I'll go get more."

"Thatch…"

It was only after the fifth time the chef restocked the table that Ace dropped the spoon with a loud _clang_. He slapped a sweaty palm against his mouth in an attempt to keep the undigested food from making an acquaintance with the plates once again. Quick, sharp breaths marked the silence before he grabbed the jug and poured the remaining bits of water to chug down the bile rising in his throat.

And then, his stomach – stupid, _useless_ , piece of trash that it was – rumbled as if in hunger.

"You're still hungry," Thatch said almost breathlessly. His fingers cracked the edges of the wooden table. "I can't believe you're s-" He moved to get up, probably to get more, before Ace snapped forward to clutch at his wrist.

"No!" the teen shouted. "No, I'm not!"

The brunette threw him a disbelieving look. "You're still trying to hide it, Ace? Is this some sick joke you're playing on me, because if it is, then you're one-"

Ace tightened his grip in near desperation. "No, no!" he cut in. "I'm not! I just- I don't know why my stupid stomach did that, but I'm not, I swear! Please, just trust me... Please."

Thatch smiled humourlessly. "Trust you?" he repeated. "How could I when-" He stopped short at what must have been hurt on the teen's features, and sighed. "Ace, Ace…I trust you, I do," he said soft voice. "With my life. But at the same time, I don't trust you with yours."

The freckled pirate reeled back, as if stung. "What are you talking about?"

The fourth commander slid back into his seat, his face hidden by his hands. Instead of answering the younger's question, Thatch let out a soft chuckle that bordered on raw dismay. "And you don't even understand the gravity of what you've done," he whispered. "Of what you've let _me_ do."

Ace sucked in a sharp breath. He reached out for a brief second before he pulled back, unsure of what to do to alleviate his brother's distress.

Thatch looked up then. His eyes shone with an unnatural redness, his lips curled downwards at the corners and there was a shadowed look upon the man's usually jovial features that made him look older than he really was. Ace decided he hated it, this look that was so wrong on his face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" the chef repeated. "I let you _starve_ , Ace. And you let me do it for no other reason than you could. _Why_?"

Ace's breath hitched at the accusation that rang loud and clear. "I-I…I'm sorry, Thatch. I'm so sorry."

And he was. He truly was. He didn't know exactly what had pushed him to keep the truth of his enormous appetite to himself. None of the crew, with the exceptions being the ex-Spades Pirates, had known before he had taken up the mark. Back then, he had opted to steal what food he could take, and never too much lest he was discovered during one of his stealth missions (which had been deceptively easy). When he had joined them, he hadn't chosen to let them know how much he could eat. He ate like any average pirate and, while they knew he loved food (that he would do almost anything with the promise of food was clear enough), none of them knew he was always hungry after every meal.

He just didn't think there would be extreme consequences to that. Like getting so tired he suffered from an alarming increase in sleep attacks – he had suffered from eight attacks that morning alone – and sometimes even fainting near the end of a long day, though his family mistook it for his narcolepsy. He never thought he'd be grateful for that illness. Besides that, he had been struck by stomach aches and the like. It wasn't until Marco had ordered him to the infirmary that morning that he discovered why. It didn't take long for Thatch to be called down soon after to discuss the…issue, and that led to this and this led to that. And here they were. At odds because Ace was a stupid, stubborn fool who did things without thinking.

A hand slammed against the table. "No, you're not. You're sorry I feel this way, but you're not sorry you did it."

Ace shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Thatch," he whispered. "I never thought it'd bother you so much."

Thatch looked at him in askance. The expression was then wiped clean from his features as he sat up straight. He hooked a finger beneath the teen's chin and the silent demand forced grey eyes to meet his.

"Explain," he ordered.

And he did. Ace spoke of his childhood hunting tigers, crocodiles and other large animals to feed himself and his brother. He revealed that he had always hunted or stolen for his crew, and not once had he allowed them to do it for him. "I have a huge appetite, you see. It feels…wrong not to get my own food, and for them too, since I was responsible for them, like I was responsible for Luffy. And now that I'm here," he shrugged again. "No one really cared before and... I didn't want to bother you or anyone to keep feeding me more than you had to."

"So you thought you'd take an extended diet for the rest of your life?" Thatch asked, voice flat.

Ace flinched. "I didn't think it'd affect my body so much. I thought I'd get used to it and time would work out the rest."

There was a brief silence.

"And you aren't hungry anymore now?"

He shook his head. "I'm not," he said earnestly. "Really."

A pair of dark eyebrows furrowed. "Your stomach didn't seem to agree."

Ace faltered. "I don't know why it did," he admitted. "But I'm really not hungry anymore."

Thatch pinned him with a searching gaze, locking him in place until he squirmed. Eventually, he sighed. "I ruined your appetite, didn't I? To the point you felt sick." Before Ace could answer, he dropped his face to rest on his palms. "I'm so sorry, Ace," he said quietly. "This is my fault. It's not yours but here I am, scolding you for-" He let out a forced chuckle. "I'm your older brother and the darn head chef of this ship. But I still didn't see the signs of a starving man – _boy_ – when I hung out with him every damned day!"

Ace bit his tongue in shock, for once not snapping that he was not a boy. "It's not your fault, Thatch. Stop it, please." He shook the man's arm, as if to drive in the strength of his plea.

The fourth commander raised his head, his eyes dark with sorrow and guilt. "You didn't know any better," he said softly as he brushed the back of his fingers against the younger's jaw. The two stayed in that position for what seemed like hours, until the brunette pulled back. "From now on, you're eating as you should. No amount of 'I feel bad for the crew' or whatever rubbish you've spouted in your head will get you out of it, do you understand me?"

The fire-user nodded meekly. If that was what it took to get that horrible, horrible expression far and away from Thatch, then so be it.

Thatch's countenance cleared. He looked almost relieved. "Good," he muttered. "Come on. You should be able to finish the rest of these dishes."

And for his older brother, Ace supposed he could.

* * *

It had been three dreadfully long days since that incident. Three. Days.

Three days of Thatch still looking at him as if he'd pass out and die out of starvation because heck he was eating as much as he usually was and still the head chef kept monitoring his food intake like he'd bail on his promise after he did _that_ to him.

Ace slumped oved the dining table in the kitchens. It was stupid. _He_ was stupid, but Thatch was being stupid too! The fire-user had been confined to eating at the kitchens until he was, according to one fourth commander, "ready to let your family know that you're no average eater" and prepared to "understand that nobody would take it against you" because "you are so much more than what you eat." He rolled his eyes. But the chef had been serious and, at the moment, the teen would do anything to placate his wounded nerves.

Except that the stupid brunette still looked like a kicked puppy.

He glared at the said pirate, wondering idly how to kick his butt out of the guilty-zone. If anyone deserved to wallow in remorse, it was Ace, not his older brother who was trying to keep him healthy. And alive.

An idea clicked in his mind. The fire-user sat up, his eyes widening fractionally at the thought. Well, lunch was over and they'd head out to meet with their other brothers as was their routine soon. A smirk crossed his features. No harm trying, he supposed.

"Okay, I'm done clearing the flammable stuff," Thatch began as he approached. He threw a damp towel on the back of a chair and stretched. "Maybe we could go find Marco after this. Or do you still want to snack on something? I think I have…"

Ace tuned out his words and launched himself on the pirate. The chef yelped when arms came round his shoulders and two legs wrapped around his waist. He reflexively leaned forward to support the sudden weight that rested on his back, his hands wrapping around two muscular thighs.

"Uh, Ace?"

Ace dropped his head into the crook of the commander's neck. "This," he announced, "is your punishment."

Thatch spluttered. "What?" A second later and he asked the right question, his voice layered with careful apprehension, "Why am I being punished?"

"Because you feel guilty," Ace answered simply. "It's not your fault and I've told you that again and again, but you won't listen to me. That just makes _me_ feel guiltier. And we both know I can't eat much if I feel bad, yes?" He tightened his hold on the older man. "So it's become your fault that I don't feel good eating anymore and until you stop acting like you stole my food, your punishment will last until I feel better."

The brunette was silent. When he spoke up, Ace could almost hear the smile in it. "And my punishment is to carry you until you feel like making use of your own legs?"

Ace nodded. "Yeap! Are we agreed?"

Thatch snorted. "Like I have a choice."

Ace grinned. He practically bounced on his perch on the commander's back. Pointing towards the door, he instructed, "To the crow's nest!"

And Thatch, fourth commander to Whitebeard, did just that.

* * *

"They seem to be having fun," Curiel commented.

Izo gave a soft huff. "You think?"

Marco nodded to himself in quiet agreement. It was good, at the very least. He observed the two pirates – Thatch and Ace – running about the deck, the kid's laughter ringing loud and clear for all to hear, and also inadvertently causing a few to break into smiles. He had noticed, as had his fellow family members, Thatch appearing down for reasons he refused to divulge. It must have, he thought, had something to do with that visit to the infirmary. For his part, Ace seemed to suffer the same bout of guilt.

The blonde would have interfered soon if the two idiots had yet to pull themselves together by morning (no one really knew their of dependence on Thatch's general cheerfulness and now Ace's exuberance for all things known) but it seemed their youngest brother had taken it upon himself to pull both of them out of their misery.

"Faster, faster!"

Ace gave a delighted laugh when Thatch bent lower, speeding up, and then somersaulting against the railings to fall back into a crouch. His laughter was joined with Oyaji's, who smiled kindly on the two. He gestured for them to come forward when they looked up, and Thatch complied, all the while listening as Ace chattered on about something from his back.

"Having fun?" Whitebeard asked, a grin dominating his features.

Ace answered for the two of them, "Yeap!"

Curiel snorted. "Of course you are, Fire Fist. You're the one getting a free ride."

Thatch looked at him in undisguised horror. "That's not a hint, right? You're way too heavy for me to carry, Curiel! This kid is small enough for me to-"

Ace smacked a fist into the brunette's head, though he was careful to avoid disturbing the hairstyle. "I'm not a kid!" he shouted. As if in afterthought, he quickly added, "And I'm not small!"

The chef just laughed. "Yeah, yeah. You're a big adult now. Must have mistaken you for Haruta."

In retaliation, the fire-user twisted his grip on the commander's back. He leaned in to whisper loudly in the chef's ear, "Don't forget I can still light up like a candle, Thatch-y. We wouldn't want any accidents, do we?"

Thatch paled, a little, though the smirk on his face didn't waver. "You wouldn't," he muttered. His smile widened when he remembered his Captain. "And you wouldn't want Oyaji to see his kids get burned, do you?"

Ace's bottom lip jutted out, and he slumped against the pirate's back, knowing his imminent defeat. "No fair, using him as an excuse."

The teen then brightened. "But I can still do this," he remarked casually, before leaning forward. He rubbed the side of his face against Thatch's, laughing quietly when the pirate tried to move his head away.

"What the- Stop it!" Thatch shrieked, struggling to keep a grin from forming. He laughed, then spluttered, when the kid continued to press his cheek up and down against his.

Izo pressed the top of his fingers against his lips, as if hiding a smile. "Honestly, it's not like he's a cat."

Marco suppressed a sigh at the two's antics. He should be used to this by now, but really, the ship was livelier than ever. He couldn't say he didn't like it.

"Stop!" the fourth commander demanded even as he began to turn in circles in a vain attempt to escape the fire-user. "Ace, you- Oyaji! Help!"

Whitebeard's form rumbled as he laughed. "Come now, Ace, spare your brother."

Ace pulled back, grinning. "Okay!" He turned to the chef. "Now, no complaints, Thatch-y," he said in a singsong voice. "I didn't set you on fire."

"Yeah," Izo chimed in. His eyes twinkled. "He was only showing his affection."

Before Thatch could retort, the Yonko beckoned to their youngest brother. "Come here, son. No, without you, Thatch."

The fourth commander grunted in relief as the weight on his back eased, with the fire-user dropping onto the soles of his feet. The kid shook his ankles, as if to better the circulation, before trotting up to their Captain. Instead of stopping at the giant's feet though, he continued onwards and clambered onto one giant knee.

Whitebeard placed a large finger on the freckled pirate's head. He mussed his hair a little. "I heard you had a little trip to the infirmary."

Ace's features seemed to darken. "Yeah." At the Yonko's frown, he hastily added, "The doc said I needed to be more careful of what I eat. So, less vegetables and more meat for me."

Marco and Izo shared a look, while Thatch looked on blankly.

"Don't you mean more vegetables and less meat, yoi?"

Ace ignored him. "Thatch's been trying to cheer me up."

Whitebeard nodded. "Is that why he's been ferrying you all over the ship while you shout out directions?" he asked, amusement layering his words.

The fire-user blinked. A secretive smile replaced the smirk and, coupled with the tilt of his head, the kid looked almost innocent.

Almost.

"You can say that," Ace answered easily. He turned to cast the fourth commander a warm look. "I can't thank him enough."

In that moment, for some reason, Marco knew the kid was hiding something. Thatch had looked so stunned his eyes had watered. Everyone had looked on in shock as Ace walked back towards him, only to climb once again onto his back.

Ace looked up at the blonde then, even as he whispered, "Let's go to the figurehead, ne?"

As the two pirates walked away (or more aptly, one did while the other swung his legs about happily), Marco turned to Izo. "That brat…is as complicated as he's simple, yoi."

Izo shrugged. "We can't all be normal."

Whitebeard only smiled.

* * *

The sky was bright tonight.

Marco rested his chin on the crest of his palm. His blue eyes were half hidden, his hair wind-swept by the cool night wind. It was a strange night, however, for he didn't feel the urge to turn his arms into wings and take to the skies. These peaceful nights usually called for flight. He absent-mindedly wondered why he didn't feel the need to at that moment.

He wasn't surprised, though, when Ace soon joined him on his perch on the crow's nest.

"Not going to Oyaji's tonight, yoi?"

Ace nudged at his elbow at the teasing, grinning slightly. "I could ask the same of you, brother."

The blonde arched an eyebrow at the term. Huh. The kid had never done that before. "I, for one, don't head to his room almost every night."

A shade of pink dusted the younger's cheeks at that. "It's not every night," he muttered as he looked away. "He tells really good stories, anyway."

Marco chuckled under his breath. "Whatever makes you feel better, yoi."

Both of them gazed into the vast expanse of darkness. The stars shone cheerfully, and filled up the blackness just enough to make the sky a mess of glittering lights. Neither was it too bright, nor too dark. It was…perfect, as cheesy as it sounded. There was a reason, Marco mused, that pirates loved the skies. For them, the skies were their roof, the seas their land, and their ships, their traveling companion.

"It's a strange thing, isn't it?" Ace suddenly said. "That so many people could be staring at the same sky. And yet…"

"And yet still be so far apart?" Marco guessed.

The younger pirate threw him a grateful look. He nodded. "I wonder if Luffy's looking up right now." His thoughtful expression morphed into a frown. "No, wait, he isn't. He should be asleep at this time, that little brat. At least, he better be."

Marco couldn't help a smirk. "You mean like you should be, _little_ brother?"

Ace rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Marco, _yoi_."

The blonde reeled back in surprise. "Yoi?" he repeated in disbelief. That kid was making fun of his-

The freckled pirate grinned at him. "You never go more than three sentences without saying it. I just said it for you so you can skip it for your next three."

Marco scoffed. "Whatever, y- brat."

Ace let out laugh. "You were going to say it still!" he accused mischievously. "But it's alright. It's very… _Marco_." Before the Phoenix could respond, the younger pirate turned back to look at the sky, a wistful look dominating his young features. "Or Grandpa," he continued, as if the brief intermission hadn't occurred. His face brightened. "Or even Shanks."

Marco froze at the name. Shanks? "Shanks?" he said out loud. "Why do you mention him, yoi?"

The teen's smile only widened. "I met him during my travels, before I met you guys."

The blonde felt a trill of panic at the admission. "You challenged him to a fight?" he asked, not quite able to mask his horror at the thought. It wouldn't surprise him if the kid had. If the kid had the guts to challenge Whitebeard, what could have stopped him from going after another Yonko?

For his part, the brat seemed amused. "If I'd known you'd react this way, I would have told you ages ago, but unfortunately, no, I didn't." He patted the Phoenix's shoulder in assurance. "We talked for a bit, but then we went off to find Jinbei, and then we – well, no – you found us."

Marco felt a tiny, minute bit of tension ease away. However, that didn't quell the part of him that screeched in protest at the very thought of Ace confronting that- that _man_ and his little crew. While he did hold Shanks in respect, that didn't mean he _liked_ him. He was a brash, annoying redhead who encouraged Oyaji to drink. And he was still a pirate. Unlike Whitebeard, there was a greater chance he wouldn't have spared Ace for as long as his adoptive father had.

"Hey, Marco? Whoa, don't freak out on me. Shanks and I even shared drinks. We didn't so much as glare at each other."

The blonde turned to see wide grey eyes staring at him. His eyebrows twitched. "It's just…"

"You don't like him, do you?" Ace commented, though Marco could have sworn something in those grey eyes hid disappointment.

The commander shrugged. "He's Shanks, yoi. I've never liked him," he admitted.

The teen seemed to deflate at that. "Oh."

Marco frowned. "What's wrong, Ace? Is he…" He struggled to force the word out. "Is he a friend of yours, yoi?"

"I suppose you can say that," the freckled pirate said. He lowered his head. "I owe him a lot. Without him…" Ace hesitated, but ploughed on at the older's encouraging look. "I probably wouldn't be here today."

Marco waited for the kid to elaborate and when he didn't, he nodded at the vague answer. "I see."

To his surprise, Ace seemed to withdraw from him. The brim of his hat was tugged lower, shadowing his features enough that his eyes and the top of his nose were concealed. It made him appear grim. When the kid spoke, he almost didn't hear him.

"Is it…because his captain was Gol D. Roger?" Ace asked quietly.

Marco frowned at the question. "Have you met the guy, Ace?"

"Huh?"

"He speaks too loudly, yoi, and he drinks all the time. He's way too friendly and invites just about _anyone_ to his crew, even in the presence of their own captains on their ship," the blonde said flatly. "Arrogant. Parties all day and night, yoi."

Ace blinked, his confusion clear. "You mean…?"

"I mean I've met Shanks, and I just don't like him." Marco rolled his shoulders back. "And I know I just described almost half our family – Izo tells me that all the time, yoi – but that man is not family. He's a rival and that's enough reason for me not to care if I like him or not."

"So it has nothing to do with Gol D. Roger?" Ace asked slowly.

"I also mean," the commander said, his patience holding strong, "it has nothing to do with his ex-captain." His blue eyes narrowed in concern. "Although I wonder why you asked, yoi."

The kid flushed. "It's nothing," he muttered. "Well, you know, people don't like the Pirate King and I wondered if you…yeah, you know."

"If I hated him just because he happened to be close to the late Pirate King?"

Ace flinched.

Marco looked at the brat thoughtfully. There was more to this story than it appeared, and he knew it was still too early for the kid to admit to them, even at this peaceful time of night. He inwardly sighed. He wouldn't normally care if the topic didn't bother his family, but it seemed certain it was one that Ace cared about greatly. If the kid could just be more forthcoming…life would be so much easier.

"I'm not quite sure what you've heard about Roger," he began carefully. "But he was respectable man, even for a pirate's standards, yoi." He noted how his brother stiffened. "He cared for his crew and ultimately gave them up to protect them. He never ran from a fight and he never let anyone get away with insulting those he cared for." He sighed. "Roger and Oyaji sometimes shared drinks with each other too, yoi. You can't imagine the headaches I had. Both of them drink like we do water." He let loose a soft chuckle. "Roger was…annoying, like Shanks, but he – both of them – are good men, yoi."

Ace continued staring at him in dumbfounded disbelief.

Marco cast him a look and the kid seemed to recoil. Not quite understanding, he reached out to soothe his brother's nerves, his hands grasping at a warm shoulder. "I know this doesn't apply to you, since for some reason you like Shanks. It's not my place to say this, but don't hate Roger for being who he was. He lived his life in freedom and I doubt he died with regrets, yoi." He paused when Ace's breath hitched. To be honest, the blonde had no idea why he kept with the topic, especially since it was clear how his words seemed to affect the wide-eyed teen. But the urge to continue burned inside him and he wasn't one to deny his instincts.

"Hating him without knowing him…" he whispered. "It would be like hating us for being Whitebeard's sons. For being strong and living the way we choose to, and not be beholden to the laws of the World Government. For being exiles, yoi."

His brother needed to hear his words, and so he had given it.

Marco silently moved closer to the fire-user and wrapped his arm around shivering – trembling? – shoulders. He turned back to the sky and tried to ignore the creeping realisation that, somehow, he had made his younger brother cry. He didn't understand the reasons but, when the kid clung at him in a manner akin to desperation, he clutched back, a soothing hymn building at the back of his throat.

His brother now needed comfort and that he would freely give.

He only wished Ace would one day open enough to tell him why.

* * *

 **There it is. Okay, so the last one was a different request, but hey, I had the time so why not throw it in?**

 **Do let me know what you think! For the next chapter, I'm not quite sure which prompt to take. I know I said I'd write them in order but I don't want a few consecutive chapters of sad Ace. A few interspersed with a happy Ace would be more preferable.**

 **In any case, because I forgot to mention this at the first Author's Note, I am not so sure when I will update Stuck. I am, well, stuck (no pun intended) and I'm not quite sure how to continue as of yet. So, please make do with this first, yeah?**

 **Till next time!**


	6. When Ace gets a visitor

**Hello everyone!**

 **First and foremost, thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites. They really push me to write faster and I know this is late. A week late, in fact, as I do try to update weekly, especially considering I have yet to update Stuck (more on that later). However, I did mention this fic would be updated irregularly, since I wanted to just dump my one-shots here. The requests just made it a full-blown fic, for some reason.**

 **Anyway, I am sorry that I took a little long. It's been a long week, and I really wanted this chapter to be good. It's longer than most though. That's good, right? This chapter has been requested by many of you, so I hope the way I wrote it and the sequence of events are what you're looking for. I know some of you wanted different...reactions. Let me know what you think?**

 **In regards to Stuck, I am still considering how the next chapter should go, so fret not. It will be updated soon.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: When Ace gets a visitor**

That was the first time he saw a mountain. A real, towering mountain that seemed to reach towards the heavens, its peaks lost beyond the mist and the soft white clouds.

The air was foggy; there was a light greyish tint to it that smelled vaguely like fresh dewdrops on an early morning. The skies rolled forth a series of billowing clouds, interspersed with small dark ones, courtesy of the unpredictable weather that could only be found on the Grand Line. At the moment, there wasn't a hint of rain even as the day darkened with the coming nightfall.

The Whitebeards had been plagued by storms (some so bad even Ace had trouble accepting that it was possible) that lasted days, then died for an hour or so before being smothered by its rage again. The fire-user refused to admit that he had been mildly nervous when Izo had shrugged the storms off, saying that they had gone through far worse and this was nothing but child's play. He never was one to take the idea that he was lacking well, for he knew that there was the distinct possibility that he might not have been able to bring his own crew through ridiculous weather like that without suffering some fatalities.

To allow them some rest, their captain had ordered the navigators to direct them to the nearest island that was under their protection: the Takayama Island. It was full of mountainous regions and small little towns near its shores.

It was also the place where he was to announce his new allegiance to Whitebeard. Get himself into the papers, raise his bounty and let the world know.

As Ace waded his way through his crowd of brothers and sisters that milled about in the hallway, he couldn't help but wonder what the future would bring for him.

"Someone's quiet today."

Ace's feet stopped, his body halfway turning at the familiar voice, when a large hand landed on his shoulder and pushed him onwards. "Not here," Thatch muttered. "Too many people."

"Oh, right."

The two pirates made their way to the kitchens. The usual three minute walk lasted a whole ten minutes.

"Phew," Thatch whistled as they finally escaped the horde of people. "You'd think the Moby Dick's swamped with people at the rate they're going."

Ace jumped onto one of the counters. His legs swung beneath him as his brother threw a paper bag of sweets at him. He peered inside. "Oh, candy." He gave his brother a smile of thanks.

Thatch felt his lips twitch immediately in reply. He watched the fire-user for a moment. "So you ready for your big day?"

The teen shrugged. "It's not a big deal." He popped a sweet into his mouth. "Beat them up, show them my back – which is really hard to miss – and we go home for that party you said we'd have."

A snort. "Your enthusiasm amazes me," the chef said dryly.

Ace opted not to answer. He didn't truly understand the hype behind the 'announcement'. His new family were beyond excited for him, though, piling questions upon questions on him and if he'd try to change his picture on the bounty poster such that Whitebeard's mark was visible. That, he thought, was stupid. How was he to show his face and his back at the same time?

They even thought his bounty would go up just 'cause he was now a member of the Whitebeards. His teeth cracked the candy into half in mild annoyance. He didn't need their name to get his bounty up. Hmph.

"Why is everyone so…busy, anyway?"

Thatch scratched the back of his head. "Most of them like to camp on land when we have the chance. I think more than half the crew have been on the seas for over a year without touching any land."

Ace almost spluttered. "What?"

"Most missions don't involve heading to islands, and those that do don't require the entire family to be there." Thatch frowned at him. "Are you alright, Ace? You've gone a little pale there."

The younger pirate forced a strained smile and waved his concerns away. No land for over a year? Disbelief, and dare he admit the spark of anxiety at the thought, coursed through him. He loved the sea and no land could ever hold him down for long, but to stay rooted to a ship for so long was… The anxiety did a somersault in his stomach and he dropped the bag of candy on the counter next to him. Whitebeard wouldn't confine him to the ship for that long, would he?

The commander pinned him with a measured look, though did nothing to call out the younger's obvious lie. "I hope you know wh-" he cut himself off. Thatch was suddenly on his feet. His gaze was directed towards the deck, dark eyes narrowed in concentration. "What the- who the hell is that," he muttered.

"Thatch?"

Ace jumped to his feet. "What's wrong?"

Thatch moved towards the door. "Can't you sense that? There's someone- oh." His eyebrows furrowed. "I forgot you didn't know haki."

"Haki?"

"Observation haki," the chef supplied distractedly. "I'll tell you more later, alright?" He reached out to ruffle the mess of dark black locks, giving a crooked grin when the younger scowled on reflex. He turned serious. "You stay here, or somewhere that's not the deck."

Ace raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"It seems we have a visitor."

The fire-user grabbed at the brunette's arm. "And you're leaving me here because..?"

Thatch bit his lip at the clear annoyance ringing in the freckled pirate's voice. He sighed. "Oh fine. Come along. Just promise me you won't start the whole 'I will kill you no matter how long it takes' phase again."

A gasp. "What? I wouldn't-"

A knock on the head. "Not Oyaji, silly. Our visitor."

"Oh." A pause. "I still wouldn't!"

"Yeah, yeah, kid. You keep telling yourself th- Ow! What was that- Ow ow ow!"

* * *

Marco waved his family back. His eyes kept trained on his father's impassive features. Whispers and faint mutterings carried across the deck, and even he couldn't stem the whirl of thoughts in his head as they watched their 'guest' move towards their captain. The air thickened with tension. It took all the Phoenix had not to run to stand between his adoptive father and the man.

It wasn't that he doubted in the Yonko's strength. But Whitebeard was getting on in years, and the number of health complications that ailed him only increased and worsened as the days went by. If a fight broke out…he inwardly shuddered at the thought.

It didn't help that this visit did not appear to be under good bearings.

"Newgate," the man grunted, in a tone as if the name had been minced and chewed and spat on before it left his lips. No one could miss the undertones of danger that emitted from his very being,

Whitebeard sat back on his seat though the first commander noted how his fingers tightened around the hilt of his bisento. "And to what pleasure do we owe this visit, Garp?"

* * *

"As arrogant as always," Garp observed flatly. His back stood stiff and proud. For once, he didn't don the symbol of the marines, only garbed in a formal suit striped with blue and white. A blue tie completed the outfit. "Have you grown so used to your power you can no longer see beyond your knees, Newgate? Or have your _children_ finally grown a backbone of their own?"

Whitebeard pinned the marine with a piercing stare, and Marco knew his father was confused. He too shared in the feeling. Garp wasn't known for sneering at his adversaries. He went straight to the point and either beat them up or became fast friends with them, or at the very least, tolerated them because he felt like it.

"Why have you come here?" the Yonko rumbled in a voice reminiscent of thunder.

The marine hero snorted. "And impatient too, I see. But no matter." His eyes grew hard. "I am not here as a marine. I am here as Monkey D. Garp. And I'm here for you."

The crew tensed. Marco flung himself to stand between the two pirates. His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "If you think we're just going to allow you to-"

"Marco," Whitebeard cut in almost harshly.

The Phoenix protested. "But, Oyaji…" He clenched his fists at the stern look. Shooting the marine a glare full of warning and threat, he moved off to stand a little ways away from his adoptive father, ready to jump in at a moment's notice.

Whitebeard went on as if nothing had occurred. "Did we not have an agreement with the marines to leave each other relatively alone? Save your random visits that we at best tolerate despite having no obligation to."

Garp bared his teeth. "I told you I am not here as a marine! And those idiots don't know half the things they're doing and we don't need some agreement with a _criminal_ to preserve the peace."

"What are you trying to say?" The Yonko narrowed his eyes.

"Our times as pirate and marine have long gone, Newgate. If you still have even a whit of courage left in you, come face me like the feared man you are said to be."

There was a brief pause. Marco felt a tendril of very real fear seep into his veins. They were going to fight. But they couldn't. Especially not here. One hit from either of them could destroy the ship. He glanced at the shore they were docked at, where a smaller marine ship was anchored at as well. Marines gathered on the coastline. To his surprise, many sported worried looks and most looked towards the larger ship in tense anticipation.

His father seemed to share his concerns.

"I didn't realise you had quarrel with me, Garp." Whitebeard stood up, bisento in hand. "I hope you understand if we move our fight to the island." He paused, as if allowing Garp a moment to withdraw his challenge. When the marine didn't speak, he continued, "Unless you wish to take down as many as you can with you. My children will not stand idle if so."

To their surprise, a shadowed look darkened their visitor's features. "You and your ideology of _family_ ," Garp spat bitterly. "And yet you rob others of theirs." Without another word, he swivelled round to make for the shore, the Yonko right behind him. Many would have regarded showing his back to his adversary so casually an insult, but the Whitebeards knew their captain would never strike a man while his back was turned.

The crew parted liked dead leaves in a gust of wind as the two veterans marched past. There was a whistling in the air, and the soothing rush of tiny waves against sand. Beyond that, there was only silence. No one spoke. Marco and the other commanders followed after their father, close enough to assist, yet far enough to not appear too threatening.

A wave of haki rolled out from beneath the Yonko like a burst of dark energy. Marco barely had time to warn the lesser members of the crew back as the two oldest men stood at a standstill. Garp only smirked – a strangely empty one – and raised his clenched fists.

"Don't take this against me, Newgate," the marine hero said. "In this, I am just like you."

Whitebeard slammed the base of his bisento onto the ground. "Quit the dawdling and come!"

Just then, a streak of blurred black and orange rushed past the commanders.

"No! _STOP!_ Stop!"

A frenzied shout followed after and Thatch came up beside the commanders. The brunette looked stricken as understanding – and growing horror – dawned on his features. "No. Ace, damn it. You promised!"

Marco paled as Ace – the stupid, reckless little _fool_ – skidded to a halt before Garp, arms thrown wide.

* * *

"No! _STOP!_ Stop!"

If Ace ever needed confirmation that his life was riddled with bad luck and a whole line of people who just couldn't leave him the heck alone, this was it. His eyes were wide and staring at the big hulk of the man he called grandfather. A tiny, tiny tendril of fear erupted in his gut. What was he doing here? To drag him back to Dawn Island, or worse, bring him to Impel Down? He sure as heck couldn't qualify as a marine anymore.

Not that that explained why the old man was picking a fight with Whitebeard.

For his part, the marine stood frozen, his own blue eyes resting on the fire-user as flashes of shock and stunned disbelief crossed the old man's countenance. Ace shivered under the heavy look.

A minute passed by in tensed silence, and then two, three, four…

Garp took a step towards him, and the freckled pirate flinched.

In that instant, the commanders gave a shout and the crew yelled at the teen to run. In that instant, Whitebeard grabbed the fire-user and shoved him towards the commanders. In that instant, Garp's eyes widened at the mark on Ace's back.

"You stay away from my children," the Yonko said quietly. "Your quarrel is with me."

In the meantime, Ace muttered a string of curses as hands held fast to his arms and shoulders. He tried to shrug them off. "Let go of me!" he snapped.

Marco's eyebrows twitched. "Shut it, yoi," he replied testily. "You have no business interfering in their fight."

"Yeah!" Thatch added. He glared at the belligerent teen. "You promised you'd stay out of it!"

Ace returned the glower with one of his own. He struggled feebly and when that didn't work, he lit himself up in flames, apologising in his head when the fourth commander yelped. The first division commander inhaled sharply and seemed to resist the urge to shake some sense into the freckled teen.

"Ace," the Phoenix said in warning.

Said person began to squirm and pull. "You don't understand! Let me go! He's not here for Whitebeard. He's here for me!"

The commanders traded an exasperated look.

"Why would he want you? He said it himself. He's here for Oyaji, yoi."

"And when are you going to start calling him Oyaji?" Thatch grumbled under his breath, nursing his burnt hands and shooting his youngest brother a wounded look.

"Just let me go!" Unable to shake them off, Ace gritted his teeth as frustration welled inside him. He went slack, as if giving up, and when Marco relaxed his grip, the teen gave a mighty pull and shot out of their grasp.

"Damn it! Ace!"

* * *

Garp couldn't help himself. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the defiant brat – pirate – no, brat which stood between him and Newgate. The brat had the same speckle of freckles on his childish features, that same stubborn frown, that same messy dark hair and that orange cowboy hat that sat atop his head.

And the same bright grey eyes.

A tickle of amusement warred with his sudden onslaught of relief when the brat seemed torn between defending his now captain against him, and defending _him_ against the Yonko. The little brat. Like he had to even think about it!

Ace looked older, he vaguely thought. His form had become leaner since the marine had last seen him, granted that had been months ago, almost a year. His face had begun to shed its traces of childhood, his cheeks thinner, his jawbone stronger and, but really his skin clung to his bones too tightly. Was Whitebeard not feeding him because he ate a little too much? His eyebrows furrowed, and that action alone elicited a cautious look from the teen.

"So I see you chose to become one of _them_ ," he remarked.

He could feel Newgate's hard gaze turn assessing, but he ignored it.

Ace stiffened. "I guess you can say that," he muttered in a low voice. He looked off to the side in concern when the Whitebeards shouted at him to get away, only to be silenced by the Phoenix's stern look. Sharp blue eyes met his, before shifting to glance at his captain and then to the freckled pirate again.

"You guess?" Garp had to resist the urge to cry tears of relief. Oh, yes. The boy may be a pirate now, but he was still the same annoying, bratty grandson he had raised. "And that mark on your back?"

His grandson visibly swallowed. "None of your business!" Then, as if realising what he had said, he paled. "What…What are you doing here anyway?"

The marine grinned harder. He moved towards the pirate, seemingly oblivious to the crew's demands to leave their youngest alone (youngest, huh?), and an innate part of him felt sick satisfaction at the apprehension that flashed across Ace's countenance. So he still knew who's boss, huh. He raised his gaze to level with Newgate's. The Yonko returned the look calmly, though it narrowed a touch, a clear warning if any.

He stopped before his stupid grandson. Before he knew it, a large hand rested on the idiot's head. In a voice quiet enough for no one else to hear, he said, "I see my worries were unfounded."

Ace's wary look turned confused.

And because Garp was a grandfather, and a marine, and he had to deliver on his expectations, he slammed a fist against the brat's skull.

The boy shrieked. "What was that for, you stupid old man?!"

"Who are you calling stupid, you darn brat!" the marine bellowed. "I trained you to be a strong marine! Not to be part of Newgate's stupid flock!"

"F-flock?!" Ace spluttered. His face reddened. "I'm not a sheep! I'm a pirate! And I'm one of his!" He pointed violently towards the Yonko.

"One of his?!" Garp repeated in indignation. "You're one of _mine_! I'll teach you to run away from home, you ungrateful little brat!" He rolled his sleeves up.

"I'm not a child!"

"Of course you are! You haven't even hit twenty! Of all-"

Before he could finish, Ace was suddenly staring at him hard, his grey orbs wide. A worried frown pulled at the younger's young features. "Old man?" he asked, and the uncertainty in his voice killed the words that were about to roll of the marine's tongue. "You are…"

Garp followed his gaze and his fingers darted up to touch his cheeks.

"You're crying," Ace finished with wonder. There was a brief flash of guilt and, surprisingly, disbelief. "Old man…"

The marine slammed another fist against the brat's head. "No, I'm not!" he roared even as large tear tracks made its way down his cheeks.

Ace flinched. His hands flung to the top of his hair to clutch at the rapidly growing bump on his head. "But you are!" His look turned heated. "Crybaby!"

"What did you say?!"

"So you're old, a crybaby _and_ deaf!"

"You damn brat! Is that how you speak to your elders?!" He cracked his knuckles. "Looks like you still need some lessons beaten in you, Ace!"

Instead of answering, Ace blinked and then he was gone. Garp's eyebrow twitched when he saw the top of the brat's head peeking out from behind one of Newgate's giant leg.

Garp violently rubbed at his face, the smirk never leaving his once gaunt features. "I changed my mind, Newgate. I'd rather have him."

The Yonko looked between them, curious and also too relaxed given the circumstances. A giant hand that perhaps was meant to pat the brat seemed to trap the latter against his leg. Not that his stupid, idiot of a grandson seemed to mind. He appeared to glow at the attention instead, to the marine's surprise. "Ace, care to explain?"

Ace clutched at his pants. "I don't want to go with him," he said instead. "Don't make me!"

Ah, there it was. That flash of real worry and fear that Newgate really world.

The Yonko snorted. "Why would I hand you over to any marine at all, son?" He allowed the words to hang in the air before continuing, "What is your relationship with this man?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Garp interrupted, looking a little too happy. "Now hand me my grandson so I can teach him a lesson."

"You've got to be kidding me."

* * *

"Wish I were," Fossa answered the still-shocked Thatch.

The fourth commander threw him an unimpressed look. "Is that all you have to say?" he demanded. "That marine-monster is Ace's grandfather! His _grandfather_!" He paled. "No wonder he went all crazy on us when he first came. That monster raised him."

Izo sighed. "That's going a little far, Thatch."

The head chef shook his head, adamant. "No!" he cried. "Don't you see? Garp's craziness and the kid's 100-day streak in trying to kill Oyaji? That type of crazy doesn't just drop on your doorstep!"

Marco barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes at the display. Behind him, he could hear further 'discussion' on the revelation that had all but been dropped on them. Disbelief and surprise were evident in their expressions. Not to say that he himself wasn't included, but so Garp the Fist, Marine Hero and crazy extraordinaire was Ace's granddad. It didn't change anything. Though perhaps, he thought, he should warn Ace that he was in for major teasing and references to his grandfather.

After the tense reunion on the island, the Yonko had granted the marine permission to board the Moby Dick (this time, he couldn't suppress a sigh; the amount of alcohol his father had demanded to be brought to them was ridiculous) and even then were talking about the 'old times'. Ace, he noted, stuck close, seemingly enthralled by the veterans' words while bearing a hint of caution as he strayed neared to Whitebeard's feet. Marco did not doubt that this irked the marine, for his eyes narrowed ever so slightly whenever the teen edged away from him.

At the moment, Garp was laughing loudly when the kid grudgingly admitted he had tried to take down Whitebeard for a hundred consecutive days.

"You did?" he cackled gleefully. "That's my grandson!"

It didn't take long, though, for Ace to finally pull away to bound up to them, expression sheepish at the pointed looks directed his way.

"So," Thatch dragged out the word. He shoved his overly-large head into the kid's personal space. "Garp the Fist is your grandfather."

Ace hesitated. "Uh, yeah."

The chef pointed towards the man in question. "That man," he stated.

"Ahuh…"

"That marine."

"Yeah?"

"That crazy, cannonball-throwing monster of a man?"

Ace's features immediately darkened, but it disappeared so fast the first commander wondered if he had imagined it. He traded a look with Izo. Ah, so he hadn't. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. No matter who Garp was, the man was still the kid's grandfather.

Before the freckled pirate could answer, Izo cut in almost lazily, "Honestly, Thatch. Everyone already knows. Have you only realised it?"

Thatch spluttered. "I was just-"

"Need more time for it to sink in, yoi?" Marco smirked at the betrayed look.

The brunette scowled. His expression then brightened as he turned back to Ace. "Was it utterly painful growing up under him? What was he like? Did he try to make you a marine?" He gave an exaggerated sigh. "You should tell us these things, Ace," he lectured. "See how much we have to catch up on on so little time?"

Izo looked at his carefully manicured fingernails. "Why do we have so little time?"

As for Ace, Marco noted he had adopted a slightly pale visage.

"Ace?" he asked quietly as he sidled closer to the fire-user. "Are you alright, yoi?"

Ace started and looked at him in surprise. His cheeks coloured. "Oh. Oh, yeah, I'm fine!"

The Phoenix pursed his lips at the strained smile. He didn't believe the kid one bit. He was about to probe further, when Thatch – the stupid, clingy little adult-brat – flung an arm around the teen.

"Come on, Ace. Tell us more!" he insisted.

"There's really not much to tell," Ace mumbled.

Thatch waved his concerns away. "Pish posh." A thought occurred to him then and he shoved an accusatory finger at the kid's bare chest. "Oh wait. Is there anyone else we should know about? You're not related to any other crazy person, are you? Like some legendary monster known to all the seas, cause that would totally explain your craziness and ridiculous strength at this age. And-"

If Marco had been looking elsewhere, he would have missed the growing discomfort from Ace. However, at some point during the fourth commander's one-sided conversation, a line must have been crossed, for the younger fire-user suddenly snapped. His eyes went impossibly wide and what looked like a deep, entrenched fear flashed in those grey orbs. The teen shoved the arm from his person, and stumbled backwards. Away from them.

Thatch immediately sobered. "Hey, you alright there, Ace?" he asked, voice low. "I didn't mean anything by it, you know that right? I was j-"

Ace shook his head. "I-I need to go," he said shakily. And then he was gone.

The chef turned towards the other commanders. Already a stricken expression took firm root on his countenance. "Damn, I messed up, didn't I?"

"We might have touched on a sore topic, yoi," Marco said distractedly. He looked at Izo and jerked his chin towards Thatch. _Stay with him_. "I'll go see if he needs anything."

* * *

Ace was horrified.

His grandfather was here. Garp was here with his new family, who were _pirates_ and Garp was a marine and a vice-admiral and-and, no, this was all just so wrong! They were never meant to know. He wasn't even intending to let them know about Luffy, but there was always that something about Marco that dragged the story out from him…

And then Thatch had begun speaking. His insides twisted. He had never thought of it, but…yes, not only was he the son of a legendary monster known to all the seas, but he too was the grandson of a crazy marine hero.

" _You should tell us these things."_

He exhaled softly. Were things not fine as they were? Did being family mean he had to divulge everything that he knew? But that's stupid, he retorted feebly. He didn't know a lot of things about the crew's pasts too. Not Marco's. Not Thatch's. Not Whitebeard's. Why did _he_ have to tell them anything?

" _Like some legendary monster known to all the seas…"_

And Thatch couldn't have been closer to the truth.

He looked towards the crew milling out on deck from his high vantage point on the crow's nest. His grandfather had returned to the marine ship about half an hour back, with a promise that he would return as he "deserved some time with his errant grandson" and to remind said grandson that he "could still pack a mean punch", so no tricks or little getaways. Not that he had anywhere else to go to anymore. He did have a captain now, after all.

"There you are, yoi."

A loud clink on metal before something heavy landed beside him made the teen turn. Marco stood two feet from him, the corners of his lips quirking wryly.

"Up for some company?"

Ace bit at his bottom lip as he seriously considered the question. The commander's features remained impressively blank.

"Sure," the younger pirate said at last. He gave the blonde a measuring look. "Just don't expect me to talk much."

Marco shrugged, his shoulders lifting and falling in a manner so lazy it was almost offensive. "That doesn't mean I have to stay silent," he answered. He moved to stand beside Ace. His arms came up to lean against the top of the railings.

For a moment, only the sounds of faint chattering and occasional laughter filled the silence that was neither uncomfortable nor relaxed. A cool brush of wind combed through their hair and kissed their exposed skin. Both would have shivered if not for their immunity to the cold. Beyond the ship and away from the island, the waters stretched on for what seemed to be forever. It was almost humbling.

Then, in a low voice, Marco spoke: "Your grandfather cares for you a lot, yoi."

The casual observation hung in the air. Ace tried not to stiffen. "Hardly," he muttered. "He can be a real-" He hesitated, and that moment was as good as opportunity as any, so the Phoenix offered the first word that came to mind: "A monster?"

This time, the freckled pirate couldn't stop the tensing of his shoulders. Grey eyes darted away to focus on some rather interesting object that neither could see. "I guess you can say that," he whispered.

Ace jumped then, when a soft chuckle emanated from the commander. The beginnings of hurt churned in his stomach when Marco flicked at his arm almost fondly.

"So that's what you're worried about," the blonde murmured. His blue eyes then fell on Ace and were filled with such kindness the teen could have sworn his knees trembled. "You're right. Thatch was right, yoi. Garp is a monster. But he's a kind man. I guess you can say he has his fair - if not overly much - share of eccentricities, but ultimately he has his own sense of justice that not even the World Government can tame." His lips twitched. He repeated his earlier words, "And I can see that he cares for you a lot, yoi. Not every marine would challenge the strongest man in the world and by default his emtire crew in an attempt to avenge his errant grandson who went pirate."

Ace took some time to recover. He knew he'd probably take time to fully digest the older's words, but that time wasn't now. "He still hits like a monster though," he argued.

Marco snorted. "So does Oyaji. Or perhaps Oyaji is a monster to you?"

The teen gaped. "No!"

"Then what are you worried about, yoi? That we'll look differently at you just 'cause the marine hero happens to be related to you?" What seemed to be disappointment flickered across the commander's features at the resulting silence. He sighed. "Do you think so little of us, Ace?"

Ace shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "No, of course not." Even so, a thin line of hope (did he dare?) rose in him. "I just…I don't know what I expected, really," he mumbled. He knew what to expect if they learnt of his parentage, but Thatch's words had struck him hard. He didn't think he had to be wary of being Garp's _grandson_ too. Well, at least, he now thought he should be.

"Fine, yoi. I'll tell you what to expect," Marco said briskly. "Expect the crew to tease you merciless and to ply you with question upon question regarding your upbringing. They are curious about you, yoi, and learning about you brings you closer. Also expect them to make references to your grandfather, but it's all in good fun. Really, our family loves to tease each so, sometimes a little too much, yoi," he admitted. "You can handle that, right?"

The freckled teen blinked and nodded slowly. "I can do that…"

"Good." The Phoenix turned away. Then, as if in afterthought, he said over his shoulder, "Oh, and before I forget, you should head down to the kitchens, yoi. Thatch is driving everyone crazy with his incessant whining that you hate him now."

"But I don't-"

"Like I said, whining."

As Marco continued towards the ladder to head down (though why he doesn't just fly off, Ace could never understand), the chef's words flashed across the forefront of his mind.

" _You should tell us these things."_

Not quite knowing why, he rushed to tack on, "He's not my biological grandfather though. He…adopted me when I was born. I likely wouldn't have survived if he hadn't."

The first commander paused, one foot on the top of the rung. He turned and pinned the younger fire-user with a piercing stare, before a contented look swept across his sea-hardened features. He looked all the more younger because of it. "I'm glad he did, yoi," he murmured. A rush of blue flames licked at Ace's feet for a moment and then it flickered into non-existence just as Marco's tuft of blonde hair disappeared from view.

A nice feeling akin to the warmth of the flames reared up inside Ace. He remembered Luffy's large eyes as he stared adoringly up at him, and Sabo's laughter as he pulled him into a half-hug, and Makino's gentle smiles as she outfitted him with proper clothing, and Dadan's exaggerated annoyance whenever he returned to announce he was still alive and well.

And he also replayed the memory of Garp readying his fist for battle against Whitebeard, driving forward on the thought that his grandson had died in his quest to overcome the strongest man in the world, all in the name of petty retribution.

He smiled to himself. "Thanks, brother."

Ace leaped over the railing towards the deck. Now there was another brother to appease.

* * *

Marco opened the door to his bedroom, not surprised to see all the commanders but Thatch scattered around his quarters that was really too small to accommodate all of them.

"Well?" Vista demanded.

The blonde snorted in amusement. "He's fine, yoi. He's just worried you guys would harass him too much for details."

The commanders stared at him for a while, and he knew they knew he was lying through his teeth, but they wisely let it go.

"I see." Izo sniffed disdainfully. "I suppose if the official mother hen of the ship isn't worried, neither should we." His dark eyes raised to level with the Phoenix's. "You should have allowed someone else to speak with him."

"Yeah!" Haruta piped up.

Namur nodded in agreement. "It may be a good thing for now, that Ace is comfortable with at least someone - that is, you, Marco - but the longer this goes on, the more he would be divided from the crew. He has to learn to not rely on only, and sometimes Thatch."

The first commander considered his words. He had already been aware of their concerns but he hadn't thought much of them whenever Ace did get upset. They always needed to chase down the kid fast and resolve it before the kid's dark thoughts overwhelmed him too much (for they had realised the teen had demons that haunted him, and it was one of the worst kinds). It didn't help that their youngest' moods were as unpredictable as the weather.

"He may not react well though," he still pointed out.

Vista insisted, "He has to learn that he has an entire crew - our family - behind him. It would be much harder for him in the future if he doesn't learn that soonest."

The blonde sighed. He supposed they were right. "I will think about it."

Izo ended the subject. "Did you tell him to see Thatch?"

Marco nodded.

Curiel rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "He's probably cooking up a feast to make it up to Ace at this moment."

"And laying down his farewell speech should our youngest brother decide not to forgive him," Haruta added, unable to stop from giggling.

Izo rolled his eyes. "Enjoying it a little too much, the lot of you. Well, if there's nothing else, I will excuse myself."

The commanders eyed the kimono-clad pirate's retreating back. When the door clicked shut, Vista snorted and offered the Phoenix a look of sympathy. "He's going to take it against you," he stated.

Marco shrugged. He wasn't looking forward to whatever form of retribution Izo would deem fit to befall him, but he supposed he could hope his brother would see sense and let it be. The sixteenth commander had wanted to stay with Thatch (for the chef really had been worried) until Ace came and soothed the overly sensitive pirate. As Thatch's closest brother, he had felt it his duty to solve the problem (when really there was none), or to get to the bottom of whatever ailed their youngest brother. Of course the Phoenix hadn't allowed it. Ace was as twitchy as he was excitable.

It didn't help his case when _he_ had gone looking for the kid instead.

"At least I didn't make fun of Thatch, yoi," he retorted smoothly. "Now get out of my room. Garp's returning in the morning and that's a huge headache as it is. Curiel, I want you to hide three quarters of the sake, yoi. I don't care if you toss them on the island, so long as we don't lose it. It's bad enough that Oyaji and Garp are on the same ship. We don't need them drunk too, yoi." He turned to Haruta and his voice turned mildly threatening. "Haruta, don't you put any ideas in Ace's head. No pranks, no giggles, no _nothing_. Understood?"

Curiel nodded while Haruta pouted, before a stern glare had him bouncing his head up and down in an almost violent manner.

"Good, yoi. The rest of you, keep watch on the crew. Right. _Now_ you can get out of my room."

* * *

[The next morning]

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

Vista shook his head, not quite sure whether he wanted to plug something – anything – into his ears to drown out the sounds of shouting or if he wanted to laugh. Or cry. The crew was scattered across the deck. The commanders stationed themselves around and near Whitebeard, never too far but not too near to seem like a threat. Not that Garp couldn't have swept the floor with them if he tried and no one interfered.

Beyond their concern for their family however, no one wanted to miss some entertainment.

At the moment, the marine had Ace locked in a glare while the Yonko smirked in obvious amusement. For his part, the kid's returning glower was impressive. Now he could readily believe (and remember) that this was the same person who had the tenacity to attack the strongest man in the world for a hundred consecutive days.

"I don't want to!" Ace shouted. He threw a helpless look at his adoptive father. " _Why_ do I have to?"

Whitebeard smiled gently. "He's your grandfather," he answered simply.

The kid stared up at the skies as if praying for patience. He folded his arms, a scowl marring his handsome features. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't you pin it on me if I don't come back!"

Garp laughed heartily. "Like I'd have the heart to kill my own grandson!"

Ace shot him a dirty look. "You'd never know, knowing you," he retorted.

Ah, so the kid had given in. From how things had unfolded, he wouldn't have a choice, but Vista had thought he'd be more stubborn about it. The first words out of the marine's mouth when he came this morning were for Ace to have a "mild training session" on the island. Oyaji hadn't seemed too pleased, but Garp had assured him his 'Fists of Love' was meant for family, and that had to mean it wasn't the same as the 'Fist of Justice', right? That had to mean it wouldn't hurt as much, right? At least, that's what he hoped. He knew the only reason the Yonko had accepted was the fact that Garp had referred to the fire-user as family.

Ace, of course, was against the idea.

The two oldest men discussed (read: argued) when the kid should be returned to the ship, and the actions that Whitebeard would take should Garp be even a second late or if his son returned a little too worse for wear. They would have gone on for much longer, had Ace not chosen a random moment to interrupt.

"Which one of you is older?"

Whitebeard arched an eyebrow at the question. "Why the question, Ace?"

The teen blinked. "I was just curious. Looking at the both of you, I can't really tell."

"Of course I'm younger!" Garp bellowed. He swung an arm to point a finger at him. "Look at him! All white hair and tubes hanging off his body. That's a stupid question, Ace!"

Ace straightened. His lips pursed, and seemed to fight an inner battle not to retort too harshly. "Yeah, well, I thought you were older," he muttered. "Guess I was wrong."

Something strange flashed in the marine hero's eyes, and a moment later he was dancing to another tune. "Of course I'm older!" He puffed his chest out. "He looks too young to be my age!"

The fire-user frowned. "But you just said-"

"I'M OLDER!" Garp roared furiously. He stood up and towered over the still seated teen. He narrowed his eyes at the watching Yonko, as if challenging the man to refute his words. Whitebeard said nothing.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Stop puffing like a choking monkey already," Ace complained. Before his grandfather could latch onto that insult, the same curiosity that had gleamed in his eyes appeared once more. "Then who's stronger?"

Vista wasn't the only one to pale or groan at the question. That idiot! What was he thinking, asking something that could possibly provoke the damn marine to issue another challenge?! They- no, they were not afraid of the crazy old man, but no one wanted their captain to tire due to a needless battle. From the corner of his peripheral vision, he caught Marco shooting cold daggers at the fire-user, his features drawn with a mix of exasperation and worry.

And of course Garp did not disappoint. A proud smile crossed his face as if completely forgetting he was this close to hitting his grandson just moments before. Or perhaps, Vista mused, that had been the kid's plan all along. "Of course I am! Newgate's tough, I admit, but even he can't withstand my might when I get going!"

The Whitebeard pirates yelled their disapproval at his proclamation.

The Yonko just laughed. "We're both old, Garp. You should know better than to declare the superiority of your strength before your enemy so hastily."

Garp grinned at the pirate captain. "Shall I make true my words then?"

Ace sighed. "You two fight like squabbling old men."

Someone from the watching audience shouted, "They _are_ squabbling old men!"

Another someone laughed.

The two sea veterans ignored them.

Whitebeard said, "You think you can take me on?"

"As easily as I can tear down a mountain. Tedious and hard work, but I'll get it done nonetheless. How about it? You win, and you get to keep Ace. I win, I get to keep him," Garp responded, his knuckles already cracking.

Ace scowled. "What do you take me for?" he demanded. "A pet?"

Garp looked at him in disapproval. "Quiet down. The adults are talking."

At the same time, his adoptive father said, "Hush, child. Let me handle this."

From that point, the two dissolved into a long and petty argument (on the obvious part of the marine hero) that lasted until minutes before lunch came by. Ace eventually grew bored and bounded over to Marco's side, before flitting towards Thatch, then to some member of Izo's division, and finally seemed to tire of company for he returned to sit by Whitebeard's feet. He seemed ready to fall asleep when Garp slammed a fist against the floor, cracking it, as he demanded the kid to pay attention.

Oh, Marco was not going to be a happy bird.

"My hair has more colour than your dead white ones!" the marine shouted. "More colour is better, right, Ace?"

The Yonko sighed. "I do not see how that is relevant to our strength."

"It means I don't scare my opponents to the point they are too afraid to fight properly. How can you not know this?"

Whitebeard's answer was calm and ever tolerant. "Any coward who runs at one's mere appearance aren't worthy of being a rival at all."

"Says you," Garp said hotly. "I can punch them into the skies!"

"So can I."

"I can throw cannonballs at ships!"

"The world knows that very well," the pirate captain answered dryly. "But so can I if I so choose."

"I can run faster."

"I can deal more damage in one strike."

"I can eat more than you!"

Whitebeard arched an eyebrow at that. "I do not eat as much as you, I concede. However, food is scarce on the seas and having a large appetite bodes ill for seafarers."

Ace threw him a wounded look at that and opened his mouth to say something but, to Vista's surprise, he caught him glancing at Thatch before he backed down almost immediately. He shifted his focus to the chef and was surprised to see the seriousness in his solemn gaze, though he now understood the kid's reaction. He wondered what he had missed.

"I imagine my grandson isn't too happy about that," Garp remarked, his eyes shining as if he had just won a tiny victory. He directed his attention to the kid even as his eyes never left Whitebeard's. "Let us leave it to my bratty grandson then. Ace, who do you think is the stronger one between us two?"

And everyone knew what the question really meant: Who do you like more?

Said grandson flicked them both unreadable glances. He didn't take long to answer though. Opting not to say anything, he jerked his chin towards his captain.

Garp spluttered. "What? Why?!"

"Because," Ace said slowly, as if the answer was obvious, "he has a larger moustache. Look how impressive it is!"

The punishment was instantaneous. The marine slammed a fist at the kid's head. Before he hit though, Vista caught a flash of resignation in the kid's face before the cursed limb practically smashed a hole in the deck. Despite almost having missed, Ace still clutched at the side of his head, a pained grimace etched into his features, glaring weakly at his grandfather.

"Y-you didn't have to do that!" he protested. A bump the size of Vista's fist swelled on his head. "I was being honest!"

Garp growled. "I'm your grandfather! Show more care!"

"You always hit me! Why the hell would I do that?!"

The air grew heavy at that as the pirates filed that information for later. The grandfather-grandson duo didn't seem to notice.

"Even so! I want to be cared by my grandson, you idiot!"

"No!"

"You don't have a choice!"

The marine raised his fist to hit the teen again but the crack of the side of the bisento against his arm halted the attack.

"I would suggest," Whitebeard cut in calmly, his eyes glinting something fiery, "that you do not do that again."

Garp levelled his gaze to meet the Yonko's. "And I would suggest you refrain from doing that too much," he countered just as evenly.

A hushed stillness followed his words and the two locked heated looks with each other. Minutes passed and the tension that had been there all morning rose to a peak that prompted various members of the crew to reach for their weapons.

Garp was the first to break the silent battle. He turned away towards the island and beckoned for Ace to follow. "Let's start your training," he said gruffly.

Ace looked between the two of them, but when his pirate captain kept mum his thoughts, he took it as permission and went after his grandfather's retreating back. Some of the crew protested and demanded that the fire-user returned. Who knows what trials the marine would put him through? And after seeing him get smacked around like that... The teen, of course, snorted as he walked, saying that he had "survived this long" and could "survive another half day of it".

Vista, however, knew the only reason the commanders and his pirate captain had refused to call back their youngest was the look on Garp's face as he turned away. The look of grim satisfaction.

It looked like Whitebeard had passed the test.

* * *

That evening, Garp the marine hero chose to leave.

It would have been a respectable parting too, had Ace had the tact (or intelligence) to keep his mouth shut.

"Grandpa?"

"What is it, Ace?" A large hand rested on his hat.

Ace – brave, reckless, sweet Ace – asked the question: "If you're my grandpa, and I'm Whitebeard's son, doesn't that sort of make you his father?"

Garp's stunned look was quick to morph into triumphant victory as the crew groaned into their hands. Whitebeard's features had twisted into resignation and reluctant indulgence as the brat looked on curiously.

"It doesn't work that way, Ace," Marco interrupted, his voice strained.

"But you said my family is your family, remember?"

The Phoenix's eyebrows twitched. "That wasn't really what I meant…"

Ace frowned at him. "Were you lying to me then?"

Before the commander could answer, Garp guffawed loudly. He patted his grandson's head and finally left, his laughter never fading. His last words, as it was, made the crew sigh.

"You've got yourself a handful! I'd wish you good luck, but where's the fun in that, eh, pirates?" And, to Ace, "You keep out of trouble, you fool! I won't break you out of prison if you get caught!"

Ace threw a column of fire at the marine in answer.

* * *

 **That's it! I thought of including a scene with only Garp and Ace, but then I wouldn't be able to post this chapter today, and if so probably wouldn't be able to write another chapter this coming weekend (and even that I can't promise yet).**

 **I know a lot of you have wanted a one-shot on Garp reuniting with his grandson (in the sense where he beats the heck out of him), and this is my interpretation. So, Ace was last known in the papers for wanting to confront Whitebeard. After he presumably met the Yonko, his entire crew and himself practically disappeared from the face of the planet. This leads Garp to suspect that Ace had perished at the hands of the Yonko. After waiting for news on Ace to arrive, and it still doesn't, Garp finally rises to confront the strongest man in the world in a bid to redeem himself for being unable to protect his grandson.**

 **For all his power as a marine, he was still unable to protect his family. Near the end, he was giving Whitebeard a test of sorts, if he would allow Ace to be harmed. In a way - at least, in my fics - Garp is glad that, of all pirate crews, Ace had decided to join Whitebeard. It would mean that his grandson would be better protected and still be happy.**

 **Do you think I got it right? Let me know what you think!**


	7. When Ace has a side-project

**Hey everyone!**

 **Once again, thank you for the reviews, the favourites and the follows! Some of you have been asking for an update, but I figured if I published another chapter last Sunday, well, I'd have only two days to write it. I waited instead for today to come over before I did. Please understand I've work and the weekends are the only days of which I have some time to myself. Other than that, thank you for being patient and for waiting!**

 **To those of you who asked, yes, I do do requests. However, I can only do one at a time and I would like to write some chapters where Ace is happy too. Most requests (though I can understand why) revolve around our favourite fire-user getting hurt, harmed or the like. Not very conducive to getting Ace all smiling, eh?**

 **On another note, this response is to gdesertsand:**

 _Thank you, thank you for your kind words!_

 _You're right. I don't quite accept that Marineford ever happened (though somewhere in the deep, deep part of my mind knows it is unfortunately true). However, the reason I had Garp proclaiming that he wouldn't break Ace out of jail is his belief that his grandson wouldn't actually get caught. In a way, I believe he is relieved that Ace had joined Whitebeard. The Yonko is known for being very protective of his family and would never have allowed Ace to get harmed if he could. Also, as far as pirates go, like his relationship with Gol D. Roger, Garp vaguely admits that Whitebeard is pretty decent if you forgo the fact that he's a pirate._

 _Ace, unlike Luffy, has strength beyond his age and that makes up for luck. He had made it this far and joined the strongest man in the world. I doubt event the marine hero could comprehend that his grandson could get captured. It was, above all, just a slip of warning not to get caught. Garp merely gave the message that he wouldn't be able to save him, and to please not put him in the position where he was helpless when it came to family._

 _And no, Thatch is not dying. Not on my watch._

 _Again, thank you so much! You don't know what that means to me. Or perhaps you do, as it seems you are a writer as well. ;)_

 **On the topic of Stuck, I will update it maybe in two weeks? Gosh is it hard to get back into it and I've little to no idea how to continue it still. Thank you for bearing with me on that.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: When Ace has a side-project**

It took two seconds of clenched fists, a long-drawn out blink, pursed lips and a stubborn frown to suppress the urge to sigh. Marco, first division commander of the Whitebeard pirates, then fiercely told himself to accept that, yes, they were to dock on the next island within the next few minutes and, yes again, they were about to spend ungodly amount of beli on sake. _Sake_.

Because Garp the marine hero had challenged Oyaji to a drinking contest and both the old men had all but emptied their stock of alcohol.

The blonde only had his lucky stars to thank that both veterans had been too out of it to remember who won. Oyaji did, for the record. Garp had fallen to a fit of narcolepsy and any subsequent drink would still have rendered his qualifications in the game invalid. Or maybe Marco was being biased. Who really cared when they were ordered to spend _this_ amount on _sake_?!

He resented being the first division commander sometimes.

Even then he still had to supervise his family making preparations to head inland. The commanders oversaw their respective divisions, excluding those such as Thatch (who always prepared his lists of ingredients to buy weeks beforehand, and prepped his division to do the same for all the things they might need) and Izo (who was early for everything except breakfast).

"You should do this way earlier too," Thatch commented from his perch on the wooden railing. "Could have saved you countless headaches and time."

Marco huffed. "I would, yoi," he said irritably. "But I'm in charge of all you commanders, and I can't finish mine if even one of you isn't done." He raked the list with another cursory glance before keeping it in his jacket. He had to resist the urge to fold it into a paper plane and let it fly free into the sky. He paused. He really had been spending too much time with Ace. Since when had he thought like that?

"No need to get all ruffled up, birdy-boy," the head chef quipped. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Marco threw him an unimpressed stare. If not for the offer, the blonde knew he might just have shoved his brother off his seat to reacquaint himself with the sea. "I'm almost done. I just need Jozu, Blenheim and Curiel to let me know who's going in and who's staying put, yoi." A thought occurred to him and he backtracked. "No, that reminds me. Can you find Ace and ask if he's coming along? I would but there's no need for the commanders to run all over the ship to find me later on, yoi."

Thatch waved him away. "No need to explain, Marco. I know. Although I would have to say no since our favourite little brother just walked out on deck." A happy grin lit up his features. Breathing in deeply, he let it out to holler a very loud: " _ACE!_ "

Said pirate stopped and tilted his head back, eyebrows raised. He said something neither commander could hear to a fellow division member before bounding over to them.

"Hey!" he said brightly. His eyes fell on Marco's strained features. "Hey..?" he repeated uncertainly.

Thatch chuckled. "Hey, kiddo. Don't worry about our favourite little birdy. He's just stressed out about the trip inland."

Ace's countenance changed into a frown. He shot the fourth commander a weak glare, tempered by the clear excitement that gleamed in his eyes. "I'm not a kid," he protested.

The chef reached out to push back the cowboy hat and ruffle the messy black locks in answer. "Always a kid to me, Ace-kun."

Marco had to admit he felt the vestiges of stress begin to ease as he watched his two brothers bicker. Ace had developed a light flush to his cheeks while the chef continued to playfully ply him with light-hearted comments. It had come as a pleasant (and a little…endearing) surprise when they discovered how easily their newest brother became embarrassed. Whenever someone so much as referenced his softer side, he'd go all red and stuttering and blasting out denials.

"So, Ace-kun," Thatch was saying, "if you're good, we'll even buy you something from the island."

To their surprise, instead of latching onto the brunette and possibly banging his head against the wall, Ace lit up as if his birthday and Christmas had arrived on his doorstep. The blonde had thought he looked happy just moments before, but this overshadowed that by a long run.

The words came out as a rush: "Can I come? Can I?" He turned to Marco, the soles of his feet vibrating so hard the boy was practically bouncing. "Please, please, please. I'll be good and you won't know I'm there. Marco- Marco, I'll even tell you the prank Thatch's going to play on you tomorrow."

"Hey!" the fourth commander exclaimed.

Marco raised an eyebrow. "And any other pranks the rest of the week, yoi?"

Thatch shot him a look of horror. "No! Ace, no!"

Ace ignored the brunette and nodded vigorously. He spread his arms wide. "Everything!"

The blonde felt a slow smirk creep across his lips. Ah, there it went, the stress that had plagued him all morning. "Then we have a deal. Although I would appreciate it if you do ensure we know you're there. You being too quiet is cause for trouble, yoi."

The teen beamed at him as both studiously ignored the moaning chef who was at the moment accusing the younger of being a traitor. "Yes, commander!" He threw in a salute.

Marco rolled his eyes. He dragged the offending limb away from the kid's forehead. "Call me commander again and I'll give you a first-hand lesson why I was made commander," he said dryly. Flicking the chef an annoyed look then, he muttered, "Shut up, Thatch. That's enough, you won, yoi. You're now much more of a 'kiddo' than Ace is. Happy now?"

The betrayed look on Thatch's face was so wrong on the middle-aged man's face that it cracked the two fire-users up. Ace slapped a hand against his lips as he snickered to himself, promptly jumping to stand on the blonde's side to remain in the 'safety range'. The chef never tried to attack him with Marco so near. Marco was safe. He was, above all, the first mate and the most protective of them all, aside from Whitebeard.

"Traitor," the brunette accused. "I never thought you'd turn against me, Ace! I thought better of you!"

The first commander turned his full attention to the youngest pirate. "Why do you want to go inland with us anyway? We're only purchasing the necessities and then we're out of here, yoi."

Thatch threw in, "Necessities, Marco?"

The pirate ignored him. To Oyaji, sake was a necessity. Enough said.

Ace blinked innocently. "I want to buy some stuff too."

Marco lifted an eyebrow. "Some stuff?" he repeated.

"Ahuh!"

A pause. "And what might these 'stuff' be?"

The freckled teen remained silent for a while. Something in his gaze changed, and his teeth chewed on his bottom lip as he seemed to consider the question. "Well…" He hesitated. "I have this side-project I want to work on. It's…it needs materials like wood and tools and cloth and things like that? And…"

"And you're worried I'd disapprove, yoi," Marco filled in for him, his voice carefully neutral. "What will you be building?"

Another few seconds of the kid abusing his lip. "A boat," he finally answered.

…what?

Thatch interjected, "Why would you need a boat?"

Ace looked between the two of them. "I just thought it'd be more convenient with one around." He shrugged. "I'm not even sure how it works. I just want to give it a try."

Marco considered his request. No, Ace definitely wasn't going to run away. He may have violently rejected the idea of joining them at first, but he wasn't the type of guy to make decisions so flippantly. He was one of them now. Hmmm. But if he agreed, it would be so much easier for the kid to turn right around and be all reckless and foolish. Still…he'd learn over time and, and he trusted Ace. Plus that hopeful look should be made illegal.

Too bad pirates didn't follow the law.

"Fine, yoi," he agreed, smiling a little when the kid gave a loud whoop of joy. "But I want you to report to me on this daily, is that clear?"

"Yes, commander!"

"I also want you to meet up with the shipwrights to go over your plans. We don't need you to take another swim."

"Yes, sir!"

"Call me that one more time and I'll change my mind, yoi," Marco warned.

Ace's shoulders shook as he laughed. "But it annoys you!" he argued. "I aim to please."

The blonde snorted. "Whatever, brat." He pulled the stack of papers from his jacket's inner pocket, looked through it and stopped at a half-filled table full of items they need to replenish at the island. "Do you have any idea how much the material will cost? I'll clear it with Oyaji first, yoi, though I doubt he'd disagree."

The smirk on the teen's countenance faded into a frown of confusion. "What do you mean?"

Marco tapped his fingers on the papers idly. "We need to log in the cost of the material with Oyaji. Plus we never bring too much money inland unless we need to use it."

Ace stared at him. His grey eyes were a little wider than usual, with specks of caution and surprise etched deep in his orbs. "You're offering to pay for my stuff?" he asked.

"Of course, yoi. You're part of the family. Your expenses are ours."

Thatch shot the youngest a strange look. "Did you think we'd make you pay?"

The resulting silence was answer enough.

Marco inwardly sighed. There it was, another one of Ace's strange beliefs. He wondered if he should have sat the kid down and told him exactly what it entailed to be part of Whitebeard's crew. "Ace," he began patiently. "All of us 'pay', for lack of a better word, for our living by contributing to the ship's daily needs. We run the ship, we protect the ship, and we protect our family, yoi. We _earned_ this through that alone. Unless you're asking for half of the Grand Line, it's only right we use our funds for what the family needs."

"I don't need it though," Ace pointed out. "Wanting something and needing something are two different things."

"That's true, yoi. But what's a pirate if they can't do what they want? How we handle the funds is important, but so is ensuring everyone has their fair share at the end of the day." A thought occurred to the first commander and he gave the kid an odd look. "You could, of course, keep your own stash for yourself and spend it as you please. But you'd still be allowed to use the ship's funds, yoi, as long as you keep within the given budget."

"But that's not right! I can pay for myself just fine!"

Thatch interrupted, "Did you not allow your Spades crew to spend the treasures you kept?"

A blank look crossed the teen's features. "You mean our treasury?"

The brunette nodded.

"That's Eiichi's – our treasurer's – job."

"Well, yes, but you were the Captain…right?"

Ace glared at him. "Of course I was the Captain! What's your point?"

Thatch squinted at the kid, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as if trying to solve some complicated puzzle. "I mean," he said slowly, "that it was by your authority that you delegated which amount of beli went where, correct?"

A scoff. "Of course not. Eiichi wouldn't let me near the treasury with a ten foot pole."

The chef drew back. "Why? You were the Captain!"

The younger fire-user shrugged. "I was okay with managing our funds, but Eiichi was better at it. Said I hoarded them till we almost starved at sea." At the flabbergasted looks he received, he added defensively, "We had just entered the better part of Paradise and a really bad storm hit us about a day after we set off. The delay almost wiped us clean of food."

Ah. A sailor's worst mistake was misjudging how much they had to stock up on provisions. Too little and they might starve. Too much and the food could go bad. And no experienced chef – no chef, period – would tolerate a Captain who let the latter happen too often.

Marco decided to interject: "What of the items you wanted to purchase for yourself, yoi? You still had to get it from the treasury."

"If I asked nicely," Ace affirmed. "Eiichi can't stand rudeness of all levels."

"Wait, so you mean, even though you were Captain, you had to ask for _permission_ to gain access to your own treasury?" Thatch said incredulously.

The freckled pirate fidgeted under the two commander's intense looks. The bottom of his lip was sucked in – getting chewed on, no doubt – as he tried to comprehend the reason the two older pirates were staring at him with such astonishment. "But it's not _my_ treasury," he answered at last. "It's the crew's treasury. I can't spend it however way I want to without asking them when it could potentially mean our lives."

"You could steal," the chef pointed out.

An expression of affront flashed across the youngest' countenance. "What if we ran into a ship of family merchants? With kids? We wouldn't steal from _them_." He gasped then. "We – I mean, you – I mean, we _us_ ," – he pointed at the general vicinity of the Moby Dick – "don't do that, do we?"

Marco got the feeling that the kid was speaking from experience, and he wondered how that encounter had gone. Despite that, he couldn't help the feeling of pride well up in his chest at the complete indignation that flittered across the kid's open expression. Yes, Oyaji had certainly chosen well. This was a man of honour and brutal honesty, regardless of his moments of blatant rebellion and idiocy (which was sometimes strangely likeable, for lack of a better word, he had to admit).

Likewise, it seemed he was not the only one who thought so. Thatch had that look that meant he was desperately fighting the urge to wrap the kid in a smothering bear hug.

"Of course we don't!" he exclaimed. He did pull the teen closer though. "You, my young man, are in for a big surprise. See our resident blue bird over there? _He's_ our treasurer, in a way. So what did you want to buy? We'll buy anything you want." His smile turned mischievous. "Even food."

Okay, so maybe that was pushing it, if the chef hadn't been lying about Ace's appetite.

Ace looked sceptical. "Are you sure? It could cost a lot."

"Don't worry about it! Right, Marco?" Thatch shot the Phoenix a pleading look.

Marco inwardly sighed. Like he had a choice now that the offer had been laid bare. Not that he really minded, though. "It's fine, yoi," he muttered. "Just remember that there'll be a cap next time. And," he added when the teen seemed ready to argue again, "you better just agree right now else we stand here all morning. I _have_ things to do, yoi."

Ace looked between the two of the commanders. A slow smile crept across his lips despite the harsh words. Stepping away from Thatch, he stood before the two pirates and bowed. "Thank you for your generosity. I will never forget it."

The blonde snorted. "Brat."

Thatch just laughed.

* * *

"So, wooden planks, cloth, rope and goodness know what else he's stored in his room," Izo said thoughtfully as he tapped carefully manicured fingers across the dining table. "I do wonder…"

Haruta rolled his eyes. "He's been at it for over two weeks. Are we still talking about this?"

Fossa gently scuffed the commander at the shoulder. "You're just mad he wouldn't play with you this afternoon."

The twelfth commander spluttered. "That's not true! And _sparring_ is not the same as playing, you oversized fool!"

"Oversized fool!" Fossa repeated indignantly. "Who taught you that, you little imp!"

"I'm not little!"

The two dissolved into playful banter as the other commander tuned them out as they usually did whenever their siblings broke out into trivial scuffles. Their resident Phoenix, who would have given them a look of stern disapproval, was suspiciously absent.

"Whatever Ace is making, though," Vista said as he steered the conversation back on track, "it sure isn't making Marco very happy. He has those worry lines all over his face."

Izo popped a miniature jam tart into his mouth. "He must have agreed to whatever it is Ace is planning still. That, or we'd have Ace running after him to convince him to say yes."

Blenheim snorted. "Too true. Remember when he wanted to travel to the seabed in a giant bubble? Marco had to get Oyaji to intervene. Ace wouldn't speak to him for a week."

Numerous snickers and chokes answered him, while some yelled out that they were eating. It couldn't be helped, however, as most of the crew _were_ curious after this 'side-project' their youngest had taken up. It became apparent that it must be that important to the fire-user as this wasn't the first meal he had missed.

Another of the many things they were still beginning to discover about the teen was his fiery determination and commitment to his chosen areas of interest. It was a good quality to have, they agreed, but not when they disagreed with whatever he had cooked up in his admittedly on-a-different-wavelength mind. The only reason they had peace of mind at the moment was the mere fact that Marco was there to supervise the kid in case he decided to indulge in his more reckless side.

Vista pulled at his moustache. "I hope he gets on with it quickly. I do want to see what managed to keep his attention for this long."

He wasn't the only one.

* * *

"You won't tell me?" Whitebeard asked, an eyebrow raised.

Marco coughed into his hand, his blue eyes trained on the middle of his father's forehead. He couldn't look the man in the eye. Nope. He couldn't. "I promised Ace, yoi," he said lamely. "But…if you give me the order…"

The Yonko was quiet for a moment, as if considering the suggestion. He gave a grunt then and leaned back on his seat. "I suppose if you deem it safe enough, and have gone through the lengths of promising that child, I see no reason not to wait till he reveals it." A large grin swept across his features. "Do forgive an old man for putting you in a spot, son."

The blonde forced out a wry smile. "I want to tell you," he admitted, "but I'm concerned how…"

Whitebeard supplied, "That Ace would react poorly when you have given him your word?" He laughed at the commander's resigned look. "I trust you, Marco. Just make sure he doesn't do anything too reckless."

Marco ran a hand through his hair. Warmth seeped into his skin at the sheer trust his father had in him as he briefly entertained the idea of staying up with the older pirate for the night. Then he remembered that Ace had wanted him up early in the morning. Sighing, his shoulders sagged. That brat. Really, this was more trouble than it was worth. They weren't even sure if his plan would work!

"If that's all, Oyaji," he said. "I have to get up early tomorrow morning."

Whitebeard nodded and let him go after making an attempt at messing the blonde's hair. "Tell Ace he better not burn down my ship!" he called after him, laughing all the while.

* * *

[The next morning]

Marco never thought he'd have reason to thank his post as first division commander, which demanded his early rise every morning since what might as well have been forever. He loved the job dearly, of course, and even though there were moments where he wished he didn't have so much responsibility on his shoulders, he also knew he would never cart the job off to any other. He'd worry too much. And he'd probably butt his head into every issue until they kicked him off the ship.

…or it could be the more likely occasion where he had been killed and someone else had to take over his post.

Beyond that, the demands of his position had made him used to late nights and waking before the crack of dawn. It seemed even fate was pushing him to help his youngest brother with his latest escapade, he thought in amusement.

Slipping his feet into his sandals and shrugging on his purple jacket (which Ace had said was perfect for him if he liked it, and "no one else's opinions matter, Marco. That is not a hideous looking jacket"), he wondered how on the four seas said brother managed to rope him into this project of his. Ace had shown him some blueprints of a skiff two weeks back. He wanted it to be a one-man vehicle, powered by fire, equipped with the ability to skim beneath the water surface and yet sturdy enough to weather the toughest storms.

The blonde didn't particularly think the venture would be a success, but the bright gleam of excitement in the younger's eyes more or less took the cake. There was no harm trying, after all. At least Ace would see reason and leave him be if it did fail. If he did prevail…well, the commander wouldn't be that surprised either way.

It didn't take him long to reach Ace's room, with it being only two hallways away. Despite being a regular member of the crew, he was given his own room to accommodate for all the little trinkets or stowaways that he had the tendency to bring aboard. Now, it was full of nails, wood, papers and snacks. And now that he had stolen his way in, it became apparent it was full of a sleeping Ace too.

The kid was sprawled on his front on his bed. His face was turned away from the door, half covered by the shadows of dawn. He somehow had managed to entangle his bottom half in sheets, the sole of his right foot peeking out and twitching. In the darkly lit room, Marco could make out the edges of Whitebeard's symbol on the kid's back. Not for the first time, he felt a tingling of contentment at the sight.

"Hey, Ace, yoi," he murmured as he reached out to shake the brat awake. It was just like the kid to want to wake early to 'test drive' his creation and yet need to be awoken for it when the time came. Marco was lucky, he supposed, that Ace had already deigned to inform him. He inwardly shuddered at the thought of the kid taking to the seas alone under the night's dark sky. "Ace," he repeated.

He sighed. The brat could sleep through anything. "Ace!" he said louder. He lit his fingers into blue flames and gently tugged at one muscled shoulder.

A soft murmuring answered his commands and the freckled pirate shifted in his sleep. There was a soft sigh. "'o is eet?"

"It's me, Marco, yoi."

Grey eyes blinked blearily at him before slipping shut. "'m shleep…"

Marco flipped the pirate onto his back. "You asked me to wake you up, Ace. Now get up," he ordered.

Ace seemed to struggle to open his eyes again. After a full ten seconds of what appeared to be a weary battle, he finally looked half-awake enough to recognise the stern Phoenix staring at him. "Marco?" he mumbled as he rubbed at his eye. "'hat time isit?"

At least his words were becoming more understandable. Even so, he couldn't help the tendril of pity as he looked upon his brother. Ace had kept himself up at very late hours for the past two weeks. This past night, he had gone to bed at two. "Four in the morning."

The teen gasped. "Noooo…" A look of betrayal crossed his features and the blonde would have laughed had the kid not looked ready to pout. "'o wayyy."

"No, Ace," the commander insisted. "Remember you wanted to test out your skiff, yoi?"

Ace's lower lip jutted out and he promptly turned back over, grabbed the top of the blanket and shoved it over his head. "No. Sleep," he repeated.

"What about your skiff? You promised Oyaji you'd show him by tomorrow, right?"

"Tomorrow's not today, Marco…so silly."

"But you have to test it out, yoi," the blonde pointed out. "We're going to the island to show them when it's done."

"Not going."

An eyebrow twitched. "Not going? Are you sure?"

"Hm!"

Marco made a show of exhaling noisily. "Oh well," he said, voice loud. "If you insist, yoi. I guess I'll just tell Oyaji we failed. Maybe if I just break the skiff and show him that..? He'd understand immediately." He patted where the brat's head should be, hidden under the sheets. A corner of his lips quirked when the brat stiffened under his touch. "You go on sleeping, yoi. Don't you worry about the mess. I'll clear it up, okay?"

Retreating a few steps, the blonde then kicked a few scattered wooden planks and sent some loose nails skittering. In the stillness of the morning, the racket sounded as if he was breaking apart a ship- or in this case, a skiff.

True to his predictions, Ace snapped up, blankets thrown to the floor, eyes alight with anxiety as he shouted: "No! I changed my mind! Don't!"

Marco snickered as realisation dawned on the kid as he stared at the untouched skiff at the corner of the room. Grey eyes slid to his own blue ones, full of accusation and mock hurt, and also that of plain relief.

"You bastard," he mumbled. His shoulders sagged even as he swung his legs off the bed to land on his feet. He hit the older man's chest with a dull _thwack_ as he passed by."Tricking me like that. So mean."

The commander picked up the cowboy hat off the dresser and placed it on the younger's head. "You're welcome, yoi. Now let's get this party moving."

Ace glared at him. "Yes, _commander_ ," he said sarcastically. A moment later and he (and the blonde had to cover his mouth at this) whined, "I really wanted to sleep."

"Me too," Marco retorted after a moment's struggle. "But unlike you, I have this particular younger brother who wouldn't let _me_ sleep. So he doesn't get to too, yoi."

"Jerk."

He barely missed an affectionate headlock.

* * *

Ace grinned in satisfaction. He shot the watching first commander a triumphant look. The skiff was floating! Well, that was the first good sign. Now for the second. He jumped over the railing of the ship, barely missing the way Marco had instantly stiffened, and landed on the hollow part of the skiff. The vehicle bobbed about, almost violent, and sent splashes of water into the air.

The teen tested his balance. Biting his lip, he gave the interior of the vehicle a light stamp. Good. It would hold. He looked up to meet a pair of intense blue eyes. The blonde had moved to sit on the railing, his shoulders hunched forward as if ready to take flight. Ace snorted. Really, the man should have more faith in him.

"I'm going to test it out now," he called out. He received a terse nod.

A buzz of energy whipped through him as he carefully lit his feet up in flames. To his surprise, the skiff began to vibrate. A loud humming met his ears and a sudden muffled _bang_ later was all the warning he got before the mini-boat shot forward and skimmed across the sea surface.

Ace gave a shout, at first in an attempt to re-establish his balance, and then in an exultant display of success as sea water reared up in the air and met with his face and upper body. His hair whipped past his head and he didn't have to look up to know Marco was right above him. Under the darkened sky, the flaming blue Phoenix looked like an ethereal being straight out of the heavens.

For the next hour, the teen tested out how he stood affected the balance of the boat, how slow he could go and if the skiff would sink should he stop altogether. The giddy sense of joy left an odd sense of unrealism in him, as if he was still dreaming and seeing the world through a magicked scope where all that appeared was not as it should be. It was like being high.

"Enjoying yourself, yoi?"

Ace swivelled round to beam at the hovering pirate next to him. He had stopped some metres from the Moby Dick, and still the Phoenix insisted on accompanying him within a two-arm's length. At the moment, Marco's arms were the only limbs up in blue flames.

"Ahuh! You should give it a try, Marco! Maybe your blue fire would work too," he suggested as he began to circle the commander.

Said commander snorted. "There wouldn't be any point. In battles, I'd have to fly out and you wouldn't appreciate me leaving your skiff in the dust, would you?"

Ace frowned. "But you could still try? It's _fun_."

"Only at the beginning, yoi. You'd eventually get used to it."

The teen rolled his eyes. "Spoilsport." He held up a hand when the blonde moved to speak, already knowing beforehand his brother's intent. "Hold up, let me try just one more thing and then we can go back, okay?"

The Phoenix cast him a wary look but acquiesced after a moment's hesitation. He moved a respectable distance back.

"Alright," Ace said to himself. "Let's see how fast you can go, Striker."

Building up the heat at his feet, the flames gradually grew into a burning mini inferno that had the first commander shouting out in alarm. The teen ignored him, braced himself and the skiff jerked forward.

The wind slapped at his cheeks harshly, and Ace almost winced. A loud _whoosh_ ing rushed past his ears. His body rocked backward from the boat's speeding motion and it took all he had to push his upper body forward and _stay_. He risked a glance back and his eyes widened. He had just traversed way out from the Moby Dick. This was greater than what he had hoped for.

In his distraction, he missed a small wave that hit the Striker and his carefully maintained balance was lost. With a loud yelp, his body was thrown from the skiff and he was sent tumbling, tumbling, tumbling-

-and was promptly caught by Marco. He hung upside down, his feet held by strong talons, as the Striker rolled to a stop some metres away.

"Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack, yoi?" his saviour demanded.

Ace craned his neck to look at his brother. "Thanks," he said breathlessly.

Marco glared at him. "Did you even think that I might not have been able to keep up?" he went on as if the younger hadn't spoken. "Or maybe you could have fallen straight into the waters instead of getting thrown in the air?" Then, as if flabbergasted by the utterly blank look he received, he gave an indignant squawk. "Look how far we are from home!"

Ace glanced at the small blob in the distance that was the Moby Dick. "Oops?" he offered, a tad sheepish. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."

"Keep on grinning like that and there won't be a next time, yoi," Marco snapped. "I don't know why I even agreed to this."

"Because I'm your brother and you don't want to suppress my love for creativity?"

"Because I'm an idiot who can't think straight."

The teen grinned. "You do realise you insulted yourself, right?"

Marco snorted. "Careful, Ace. I might just drop you on accident, yoi."

"Fine, _yoi_."

A loud rumbling interrupted their banter and both looked towards the source in incredulity. Despite himself, the commander had to bite his lip to suppress the beginnings of a smile. "Let's get you back. Before the little monster in your stomach claws his way out."

Ace flushed. "H-hey!"

"There there, yoi. We'll feed you so hold you tears till then, okay?"

"Marco!"

A laugh. "Brat."

* * *

"So, all this time, you were just building a boat?" Curiel asked, shaking his head.

Ace shot him a heated glare. "Just a boat?" he repeated. "Do you know how much effort goes into building 'just a boat'?"

The tenth commander raised his hands, placating, though did nothing to hide his snickers. "We thought you were building some kind of weapon or submarine or something."

Vista gave the pirate a hard nudge. "Don't give him ideas," he grumbled.

Many nodded in agreement and Ace snorted.

"Don't underestimate me, dear brothers of mine. I will get done what I want done," he declared loudly.

"Like how you determined to take Oyaji's head, little one?" Izo chipped in, an eyebrow arched as gentle humour flashed in his dark eyes.

As they had expected, a light pink dusted the fire-user's cheeks. He coughed into his hand and scowled. "That was different," he complained. "And I'm not little!"

"How was it different, Fire Fist?" Rakuyo asked. He grinned when the teen bit into his apple petulantly. "I remember how loudly you proclaimed you'd take Oyaji's life and how we'd regret letting you roam the ship so freely. Oh, how times change."

Ace fought back the urge to ram a pipe into the sniggering pirates' skulls and instead looked up to meet Rakuyo's gaze. "I can still beat _you_ , Commander Rakuyo-san," he said, immediately drawing their full attention by his use of formality more so than the issued challenge. The teen was known for sparring with anyone who would indulge. His ability to be polite and well-mannered still scared the majority of them.

Said commander grinned. "Come at me then, Fire Fist-san." He cracked his knuckles. "I'll-"

Izo tugged the pirate back into his seat. "Don't be ridiculous," he chastised. "Marco will have a fit if the two of you start throwing flames and swords about. Goodness knows Ace gives him enough nightmares as it is."

Ace spluttered. "What? What did I do?" A thought occurred to him and he frowned. "Are you teasing me again?"

The kimono-clad pirate smiled, albeit a little too happily, at the fire-user. "It seemed Haruta had seen fit to show Marco a list of could-be's regarding your new mini-boat- Striker, was it?" He went on at the teen's questioning look. "Apparently he had cooked up scenarios such as 'Ace could run off anytime he wants' or 'Ace could forge ahead in battles without waiting for back-up'."

Ace blinked. "Well, that isn't a bad idea, actually," he said thoughtfully, his forefinger and thumb rubbing the very, very light stubble on his chin. Huh. He should shave. "The battle part, I mean," he added when the others looked at him in askance.

A resounding smack later and he was laughing. "I was kidding! But it's not my fault. You made me think of it!"

Vista groaned. "I said not to give him any ideas!"

Ace was already up and moving away to get out of the hitting range. Mirth lit up his grey eyes, like sunlight shining through a storm, and he bowed. "Thanks for the tip!" he called as he ran from their indignant shouts.

Fossa sighed. "I won't pity you when Marco finds out, Izo."

The sixteenth commander snorted. "Like I'm afraid of him. Besides, this make things more interesting."

* * *

 **The downsides of Ace's new mini-boat:**

1\. He may decide to enter battles without awaiting back-up.

2\. He may run away whenever he wants.

3\. He may decide to take a 'stroll' without informing anyone.

4\. He may fall asleep while riding the mini-boat.

5\. He may get distracted by the water and fall off.

6\. He may drown.

7\. He may try to catch a seaking while on the mini-boat.

8\. He may get eaten by a seaking.

9\. He may get hungry and alert anyone without a five-mile radius of his position.

10\. He may forget the way back.

11\. He may drown.

12\. ...

P.S. Honestly, Marco, what were you thinking?

 _Written by: Haruta, Commander, Twelfth Division, Whitebeard  
_ _Checked by: Thatch, Commander, Fourth Division, Whitebeard_

* * *

 **Well, that's it.**

 **Please let me know if you have any requests, or if you'd prefer a happy or not-so-happy chapter next! And do let me know what you think! Till then! :)**


	8. When Ace tries to come clean

**Hey everyone!**

 **To those who are still here, welcome back! Thank you for returning to this fic, thank you for the reviews, and thank you for the favourites and follows and dedication to coming back despite my hiatus.**

 **To be really honest, I had truly entered the whole phase of Writer's Block. I couldn't get anything out. I have written five versions of Chapter 8, and none of them are finished. I don't know for how long this period will last but it doesn't seem to be ending any time soon, though it seems to be getting better when compared to a few weeks back. I tried to cough something up today but this is all I've got. It's pretty short when compared to the other chapters, and, well, it's not supposed to be finished either.**

 **I still figure reading some of your responses might drive me out of this Writer's Block phase so let's hope for the best eh? Fine warning, however, I am not satisfied with this chapter. In other circumstances, I would never have published it but I really need some motivation right now. Let's just say I've also hit a block in my life. It's not that bad, but it'd be nice to have something to look forward to.**

 **For the two who sent me PMs, I'll respond to you both soon. I am so sorry! I haven't been on this portal for so long! The rest of you, I'd reply soonest when I have more time. Sorry!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: When Ace** **tries to come clean**

"I'm dying."

The stoically declared announcement had, as one, several members of the second division and Marco – who had to lead them in the absence of a Second Division Commander – swivelling round to see one Portgas D. Ace hunching over himself at the other end of the table. His plate was empty. It was all too noticeable then how the teen's fingers grasped at his stomach, trembling ever so slightly, as he stepped back from their sudden full attention.

To no one's surprise, Marco was the first to move.

"Where does it hurt, yoi?" he asked calmly, belying the urgency in the way he ran over to the kid. He shot the other pirates a warning look when they followed, ignoring the grumbles as they dutifully backed away. He turned back to the fire-user. "Ace?"

The person in question raised his head to reveal bright (read: watery) eyes, and the blonde felt himself tense in an instant.

"I'm _hungry_ ," the kid whispered.

Marco blinked. Had he heard that right? Yet the sombre and wary look in the younger's open expression told him otherwise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch you." The commander didn't miss the flicker of disappointment. "Could you repeat that, yoi?"

Ace breathed in deeply at that moment, and his eyes slipped closed. "I…" His lips parted wide as if to try to force the words out. "I'm hungry," he repeated.

Marco's eyebrow twitched. He allowed a momentary pause before he called over his shoulder. "Increase the speed. I want us back on the Moby Dick by noon tomorrow. The rest of you throw out your food and check our food supplies, yoi."

A flurry of action answered his orders. "Yes, commander!"

As they dispersed, though not without giving the teen concerned looks, few even stepped up to pat the kid on the shoulder as they went. For his part, Ace offered them a grateful smile before his young, boyish features creased into a frown again. Looked like the Sun had chosen to hide behind the clouds once more.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked. "The food wasn't poisoned."

The Phoenix only rubbed at his forehead. His answer was simple: "You made me paranoid." He reached forward and grabbed the hand that still held fast to the freckled pirate's belly. "Come on."

He steered them towards the Captain's – or in this case, the Commander's room – room. At the moment the highest in rank was Marco himself. Several of the second division members had been sent on a mission, with the first commander as their leading authority. Whitebeard had granted them one of their smaller ships given the number of people he had to bring along with him.

Ace happened to be one of them, though his name hadn't initially been on the list. The brat had all but coaxed their father into letting him go, that he needed to kick some marines' butt to hone his skills.

They were now on their way back home. And Marco had to admit it was a definite relief. He missed being on the Moby Dick.

Though leave it to the brat to upend the smooth-sailing mission.

Ignoring the not-so-subtle glances towards them, both slipped inside the cabin and the door was unceremoniously shut. A large rectangular table took up the centre of the room, with twelve chairs lining the sides in neat, even rows. At that moment, it seemed too small for even one. Marco leaned his back against the entrance in a bid to prevent unwanted visitors, and of course, the undesired situation of a runaway teen. From the way the kid flicked his gaze towards the door knob and the blonde, he must have understood the latter's intentions for he scowled.

"What is going on, yoi?"

Ace peered up at him, a soft sigh leaving his parted lips. "I'm hungry," he said again.

Marco remained impassive.

"Marco, I'm serious."

The commander had to resist his own urge to sigh. "You're hungry."

A shaky nod.

"So hungry you could die," Marco said dryly.

The teen jerked his chin again. "I really am. Hungry, I mean."

The older pirate pinched the bridge of his nose and he mentally counted to three. "Then why didn't you just grab more food, yoi? Instead of declaring that you're about to die, of all things!"

Ace's shoulders slumped and he turned away. From his vantage point, Marco could see he had hit a nerve.

"I just," the teen began to say, "I _am_ hungry, Marco. I'm not lying and I'm not making fun of you. I just, I eat _a lot_." He slapped a palm against his face. "Damn it. Thatch told me to come clean but this is hard…"

Marco drew back. "Thatch?" he repeated. Come clean? "About what?"

Moist grey eyes blinked at him warily. Instead of answering the question, he said, "If you don't eat enough, you starve and then you die, Marco. That's what I meant by dying. I wasn't lying." He moved away from the older pirate. Dragging out a chair, he all but fell into it and leaned his side against it. He seemed about to cross his arms, but changed his mind and stared dolefully at the watching Phoenix.

The commander seemed to wait for the punchline, and when it didn't come, he held up his hands, his features serious. "Okay... Okay. From the beginning," the blonde said, his voice stern and unyielding. "Are you hurt, yoi?"

Ace immediately shook his head, but froze mid-shake as he considered the question. He bit his lip. "A little," he admitted as again his fingers brushed across the flat planes of his stomach. "Here."

Blue eyes darted towards his lower torso. "How does it hurt? How much does it hurt?" He came forward and dropped to his knees to better examine the admittedly unblemished expanse of skin. "Does it hurt here, yoi?"

"Marco-"

"Ace, please cooperate with me. We mi-"

"Marco!" The teen slapped a palm against the other's chest. "Shut up! I just told you. I'm hungry. I am so hungry the lack of food is doing somersaults in my stomach. That's why it hurts _a little_. Get it?" He groaned at the look of disbelief thrown his way. "Oh for the love of the seas, keep up!"

Marco parted his lips as if to say something, then closed it, before opening them again. His solemn gaze that had not once wavered seemed to falter at the intense look he received, as if contemplating how to understand the sudden dilemma as presented to him by his brother.

"Do we need the doctors, yoi?" he finally asked.

"No!" Ace shuffled his feet. "Um, Thatch already consulted them about this…"

"Thatch?" Marco frowned. "And what is 'this' exactly?"

Similar to a child caught for stealing one too many cookies, Ace fidgeted under his stern gaze and spared no more than two stolen glances towards the door. The blonde inwardly fumed. He didn't know how he had missed it, but if Ace was being serious, and now that he studied the kid carefully, he did seem a little on the thin side, though he never failed to finish every single morsel of his given meals. And if Thatch had something to do with this, Whitebeard help him. 'cause he was going to kick the fourth commander so hard he wouldn't remember his own name.

"Well, I've…" Ace sighed. "I haven't been eating well these past few…well, recently. And it's not healthy that I'm not, you know, eating well. And I get really hungry a lot so I get sick a little, sometimes, and-"

Marco held up a hand. "Calm yourself, yoi. I won't eat you up," he said dryly.

"Like that's so believable," the kid muttered under his breath. He coughed at the annoyed look. He then drew himself up and rushed his words out: "I've been feeling a little sick these past few weeks, and remember when you forced me to go to the infirmary for a check-up? Yeah, the doctors said I'm not eating enough and so Thatch had to get involved since he's the head chef and all that and- And, I really upset him about the whole thing and he made me promise I'd tell the crew so I can eat in the mess hall with you guys soon and, you know, not camp out in the kitchens for all my meals."

Marco took a moment to digest the words. His eyes slowly widened. "Are you saying we _starved_ you?"

"Well, no, but I mean- well, in a way, yeah. I mean! I mean, I was starving, but you guys didn't starve me, get it? It was my own fault."

"So," the commander said slowly, and completely disregarding the younger's words as he put two and two together, "we weren't feeding you enough, yoi, and you fell sick enough for the doctors to get involved. Then Thatch was called in to draw up a proper dietary plan for you?"

"Well- yes, I guess you can say that."

Ugly realisation began its creepy, undesired descent on the Phoenix. "That's why you've been eating in the kitchens with Thatch, yoi," he said, though part of him vividly remembered the fourth commander excusing their absence with the lame reason that he was freaking lonely and wanted one-on-one time with the fire-user. He knew something was up, but Thatch hadn't said anything. He didn't want to push...

Ace nodded, the wary look turning more pronounced as the older's stricken gaze bore into him. "Yes."

Marco's lips curled downwards. "He must have been upset," he stated.

The wary look turned guilty. "He is," the kid answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And the side-effects?"

There was a minute pause. "Um, increased sleep attacks?" He offered, and cringed a moment later when the blonde glared. "Less energetic than usual. Fainting spells, and all that stuff."

…

"Son of a bitch."

Ace turned wide eyes towards the commander at the expletive.

"I can't believe you- and why didn't you tell us earlier, yoi?" Marco ran a hand through his hair, resisting the sudden inclination to tug at them hard. "No, don't answer that," he snapped when the younger moved to answer. "How much do you eat on an average basis?"

Ace turned downcast eyes towards his feet. "About ten to fifteen times the amount we have for lunch or dinner for a meal. But that usually is just enough to satisfy me. It really depends."

The blonde's eyebrows shot up. Ten to fifteen times? To a meal? That was like feeding ten to fifteen men! If it had not been for the growing moisture on the kid's eyelashes (and why was he so easily upset now?), he would have thought the idea to be some joke his family had found fit to play on him. (And yes, they were that cruel, the bastards.) "And the part about dying, yoi?"

To his surprise, Ace coloured. "If you don't eat enough, you die, right? I'm not eating enough now so isn't that equivalent to me dying?" At what must have been incredulity on the older's face, he hastily added to defend himself: "Thatch told me to confess to everyone! I didn't know how and I thought, since we're here anyway, I might let everyone know. And…" His shoulders slumped. "I don't want to return home and see Thatch disappointed again that I had reversed a little of what he tried so hard to fix."

"Even so, yoi, you can't just do that. We just came back from a mission, and declaring that you're _dying_ of all things right after _worries_ people. It worries me." He searched the other's features for a hint of understanding and was satisfied when that same flash of guilt surfaced.

"I'm sorry, Marco. I won't do it again."

The blonde smiled tiredly. "That's what you said after we discovered about your narcolepsy," he said.

Ace flinched. "I-"

"Come on, yoi." Marco grabbed the freckled pirate's arm and tugged him towards the kitchens.

The teen allowed himself to be dragged along, but threw the other pirate a baffled look. "Marco?"

"Kitchens," the commander answered. "You're hungry, right?" His lips twitched. "I don't want to have to report to Oyaji that you died of hunger under my watch, brat."

"But-"

Marco cut in quickly, "I'd tell you to loosen up and to trust us, yoi. I'd tell you we're family now and you can trust us with your secrets that are, for some reason, secrets. But words are just words. If you don't feel it, there's little we can do to change it."

Ace's stormy grey eyes widened at the words. True to his innate need to reassure his new family that he did trust them and that, yes, it was all simply him and it wasn't them, he opened his mouth to speak, only for a palm to cover his lips.

"Hush, yoi. I know." The corners of his lips twitched. "Just don't take too long."

A slow, bright smile crept across the teen's lips. Biting his lower lip, he skipped forward to walk in time with the commander. When the blonde moved to let go of his arm, he gripped the other instead.

"So have any idea how I should break the news to the others? I just thought I'd let you know first – or, well, the second division know first – before the others, you know? But this works out too. Or maybe I should-"

* * *

Thatch raised an eyebrow. "So your solution to break the news was to announce that you're dying?"

Ace flushed. "Shut up!" He mock-punched the other pirate when the latter snickered. "Marco can really get that scary face going when he's mad, and he happened to turn just as I was going to tell them and I snapped, okay?" He huffed. "It's not my fault the first words that came to mind was dying and all that!"

The brunette's form shook as he broke into loud laughter. Only when the threat of getting burnt was declared did he stop, and even then he struggled to keep a wide grin from forming. "Only you, Ace. Only you."

Ace's brilliant response was: "Shut up!"

Thatch ignored him. "So how will you let the rest of the crew know?"

"I don't know. Marco said just to eat a lot and let them decide how to take that." He grimaced. "He also said he'd personally send me to the infirmary if I so much as say I hurt my toe."

The commander snorted. "That mother hen. Well," – he slapped the teen's back good-naturedly – "here's looking forward to dinner. And finally too. I'm getting tired of eating in the kitchens. I _need_ to see more people."

"What? I'm not good enough company?"

The older pirate ruffled his hair. "Of course you are, kiddo. But you're either asleep or eating. I very much like my companions awake and _talking_ , you know?"

Ace glared at him. "Not a kid," he complained.

A flick to his forehead. "Yeah, yeah, kiddo."

"Whatever, old man."

* * *

"Hey. Hey, come on, look at him!"

Whispers.

"What? Who, Ace? Whoa, what the hell?"

"But isn't that his fourth time getting seconds..?"

"…"

"That's insane!"

…

…

"That's the eleventh plate now. Okay, I'm actually getting kind of sick."

"Look at him go!"

"Think it's a dare or something?"

"Okay. Have to stop watching."

…

"He's still... Man can the kid eat."

"Someone stop him! What if he chokes!"

"Chokes? He'll get sick at this rate!"

…

"Leave it, mate. Marco's just watching. He probably thinks it's fine."

…

…

"Ace, son."

Ace looked up to see Whitebeard staring at him seriously. He swallowed. "Yeah?"

The giant grinned. "Want to see who can eat the most at one go?"

Marco slapped a hand against his head. "Someone send me to the damn infirmary."

* * *

 **There it is. Some of you wanted to know how Ace broke the news of his eating habits and this is my take on it. Actually, not really, since what I had in mind was a little different, but this is all I could cough up. And yeah, still a lot of Marco and Thatch. I can't help it. My chapters aren't right without them. And, well, no Marco during serious moments just seems so wrong. But that would change a little bit in further chapters.**

 **Hopefully.**

 **So please review and let me know what you think?**


	9. When Ace attracts unwanted attention

**Hey guys!**

 **Guess who's back! Okay, so maybe I shouldn't sound so happy, but I finally managed to cough out another chapter. To be fair, it's not as nice (though it's one of my longest yet) and as great as I want it to be. But this fic is a collection of oneshots and since I have painstakingly written it, it is definitely going out. This chapter is a request...and I'm just no good with writing these sort of stories. It must be one of the reasons I stick to depressing, sad plots.**

 **Also, please note that this chapter happened _before_ Ace got his mark.**

 **Anyway, thank you for the reviews, the favourites and the follows! You guys are amazing and thank you again for coming back to read whatever I have to offer.**

 **On another more serious note, I know some of you are not happy that I have taken this long of a hiatus from writing. I implore you to please understand that I have a life outside of this writing this fics. I have a job, responsibilities pertaining to family and friends, and I also need time to myself, and that doesn't necessarily centre around spending hours writing something that most people don't even appreciate. I write this for myself, yes, and I like that I can share it with you guys, but please don't make it a point to try bring me down. Please remember I am not obligated to write this.**

 **Also, this is neither a ThatchxIzo fic nor a MarcoxAce fic. Simply said, there are no pairings.**

 **As for** _Lifeless Heartless_ **, sweetie, I am so sorry I haven't replied to your PM. Please forgive me. This chapter is for you, for it is all I can offer you at this juncture in time.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: When Ace attracts unwanted attention**

Ace stared at the back of his hands, his eyebrows furrowed.

He had known that things – if not his entire world – would change the moment he stopped being stupid and accepted Whitebeard's offer. He knew – he really, _really_ did – his decision would bring forth new (and exciting) things and the part of him that desired his newfound family's companionship couldn't help but shiver in anticipation. He would never be alone anymore. Marco, Whitebeard, _everyone_ on the ship had promised him that.

For once, he would have other people to look to when he wasn't sure of his next step. It was fine if he made mistakes. With Luffy, he always had to keep up a brave front. His naïve little brother believed he was invincible, though he always felt far from it. As for the Spades, he was the Captain. He never wanted them to see him as weak, and he strove to prove that their trust in his strength and fortitude was not misplaced.

Now that he didn't have to live to the expectations that he himself had bound himself with…it was almost jarring.

But what he hadn't expected was how truly _happy_ he would be, here, among one of the fiercest pirate crews to sail the seas. All Ace had hoped for was peace, for contentment or just a little bit of appreciation even, but not in his wildest dreams could he have foreseen how at home he felt on the Moby Dick. With their easy-going smiles and general laidback attitudes, he couldn't help how welcomed he felt. Like he had finally stumbled his way back home after years of being away.

His hands closed into a fist.

And yet, a small part of him yelled in defiance. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

For with each flash of bliss came an ounce of regret, and a pinch of sharp guilt. His true home would forever be with Luffy, and the vacant space that was Sabo's. Part of it extended to Dadan and the other mountain bandits, to his crazy grandfather, and to Makino-san too, the only woman whom he felt was as close to his mother as he would ever get. Another part of him held fast to his short but extraordinary time with the Spades. He would cherish those memories for as long as he lived, but already they were turning vague and distant as new bonds and new _people_ took root in his life.

It felt…wrong. But he wasn't abandoning them, was he? Luffy and everyone else on Mt. Corvo (with the exception of maybe Garp) would have wanted him to be happy, even if it was in another home. His former crew would want the best for him and themselves, even if it meant to sail under another's flag.

…right?

They had pledged their loyalty to him. As Captain, Ace had carried their dreams, their hopes and trust on his shoulders. It was his responsibility to tear their way through to freedom. Disbanding them, without asking for their opinions and just going ahead with what _he_ wanted…was that too selfish of him?

"So this was where you were, yoi," a familiar voice broke his train of thought. "We were looking all over for you."

Ace turned away from the stern of the ship, his eyes dark and brooding. If Marco felt he looked out of sorts, he didn't show it, and instead offered him a mug of, oh, hot chocolate. The younger accepted it with a mumbled 'thanks'.

"We're approaching one of the winter islands," the commander answered the unspoken question. "Thatch said hot chocolate was in order and the others tend to go a little…competitive when it comes to his hot chocolate, yoi. We saved you some, but I'm afraid it won't be as warm as it should be."

The younger pirate peered at him through the corners of his eyes. "It's no problem," he said quietly. His palms turned a faint shade of red as he warmed the drink again. He inwardly felt his stomach curl in appreciation that the older man had remembered him. Was this how Luffy felt like whenever he did something nice for him? "Give me your mug?"

Marco handed it to him without question and a moment later he was holding his own mug of nicely heated chocolate.

A hushed silence befell them. Somehow, the freckled teen got the feeling his new brother was waiting for him to speak. The blonde always seemed to know when he was troubled (or maybe he was just that transparent) but he would never push unless it had the potential to cause harm amongst the family.

Ace almost started when he felt a warm palm press against his chest. He looked down to see it was his own, feeling for the steady thump of his own heart that seemed to beat with a sort of tender ache.

"I never asked you," he suddenly said. A pair of blue eyes fixed on him.

"I know the Captain" – he still couldn't bring himself to call the strongest man in the world _Oyaji_ – "wanted me to join the crew, and all of you respected him enough to ensure he got what he wanted." He quirked a wry smile. "Even ifit mean putting up with my antics."

Marco remained silent.

"How did…" Ace had to choke back a stutter. "How did you really feel about me joining the crew?"

The younger fire-user had never had anyone (except Luffy and Sabo, the two who wouldn't leave him alone, the idiots) who found his company even remotely close to likeable. Yet the Whitebeards sought him out, invited him into conversations, and some even scrambled to book his time before someone else could, and he quoted, 'take him away'. And Marco – thoughtful, caring _Marco_ – was with him every step of the way.

And, because of that, he was almost afraid of the answer he couldn't help would come.

A soft chuckle tore him from his inner dark musings, and a rough hand pressing his cowboy hat onto his head made him look up with a scowl.

"I always knew you'd come through, yoi," Marco said calmly, as if oblivious to the internal turmoil that rolled in the younger's chest. "Everyone on this ship, Ace, has something in common, yoi." A cool breeze wafted through the air. "We want a place to call home, yet we desire nothing more than to be free. We hope to find friends in another, yet doing so wrongly could very well be our undoing. After all, yoi, where in this world could we find peace not only within ourselves, but in the people around us, and the place we belong in?"

Ace looked thunderstruck. "But, you couldn't have known I'd agree eventually," he argued. He looked away as he admitted, "I was…I was this close to leaving the ship. I thought of how it would be like to be part of you guys, but, there was a part of me that didn't want to. I was going to leave, maybe go back home for a bit and rest, before starting out all over again."

"What made you change your mind, yoi?"

The freckled teen let out a sigh. "I don't know." A weary grin tugged at his lips. "Must be Thatch. I'd die of regret if I missed out on his food any more than I have to."

Marco snorted and bumped the younger's shoulder. "Oh? I had nothing to do with it?"

Ace threw him a mock-puzzled look. "You? Of course not. You should be glad your hair didn't scare me aw-OW!"

The blonde grinned when the younger nursed the back of his neck from the brief headlock. He then turned sombre. "And to answer your question, yoi, of course I knew you were going to say yes. You'd have to be a fool to say no to getting a family." He rolled his eyes. "And of course, Thatch's food."

The satisfied warmth that curled Ace's insides didn't last long. "What if you don't like me?"

Marco lifted an eyebrow. "Because I always save hot chocolate and spend time with people I don't like, yoi?"

Ace ignored the bait. "You like me now," he said seriously. "But, what if, as you get to know me, you realise you don't like what you see? That maybe I'm not the person you thought I was? That maybe I-"

The commander coughed into his hand and the teen trailed off.

"If we liked you even when you were trying to take Oyaji's head for 100 consecutive days, I daresay we like you even more when you aren't being a cocky little brat." Marco smirked. "Idiot." He downed the rest of his hot chocolate. "Have you decided yet, yoi?" he abruptly changed the subject.

"Decided about what?"

"Where to put your mark." The blonde made a show of staring the kid up and down. His gaze paused at the younger's tattoo on his arm, but he looked away just as quickly, as if worried he would cause offense.

Ace wrinkled his noise. "I don't know," he said, sounding a little too sullen for his liking. "I've been thinking about it, but nowhere seems right."

Marco shrugged. "It'll come to you." He moved to walk away, signalling it was time for the younger to turn in. "Oh, and Ace, yoi?"

The teen straightened. "Yeah?"

"Izo wants to see you tomorrow morning. Thought I should warn you."

"Okay..?"

Marco shot him a secretive smile and waved at him. Ace stared after his back and, quite suddenly, he wondered if he already knew where he wanted his own tattoo to be.

* * *

[The next morning]

Ace looked himself in the mirror. His muscles were well-defined- at least, he thought it was, but clearly it wasn't enough for him to defeat most of the commanders and the Captain. His inexperience and recklessness were two of his biggest weaknesses, but that was something he could solve over time. But, as he raked his gaze over himself critically, he couldn't help but feel something was missing.

Looking back, it seemed absurd that he had believed for even a moment that he could take down Whitebeard. Just standing next to Jozu or Fossa made him look like a mouse by contrast.

"Maybe I should train to become bigger, like them…" he muttered to himself. He grimaced. But he didn't want to be that big either... Some of the commanders like Haruta and Izo weren't gigantic people like them too, and they seemed at ease enough.

 _Have to get stronger. Have to get stronger._

Ace shook his head. What rubbish was he thinking now? It wasn't like size had anything to do with strength. If that was the case, Luffy would forever be, well, Luffy. Although he did agree he needed some real sparring that didn't involve getting tossed around like a rag doll.

Dragging himself away from the mirror, the fire-user ran a hand through his tangle of dark locks and quickly shrugged on a black shirt, courtesy of Izo. The last of his yellow tops had been ripped to shreds, and no one had the heart to let him walk around without a shirt, despite his repeated insistence that he couldn't feel the cold. A smaller part of him suspected, though, that the sixteenth commander hadn't been particularly fond of his choice of clothing, and had been a little enthusiastic when introducing him to a whole new wardrobe.

But black was inconspicuous, and he didn't want to stand out.

Somehow he couldn't help but think Izo was a little disappointed at that.

* * *

Rakuyo had to admit he still had his doubts about the new kid. He couldn't deny Ace was impressively strong for a kid his age and was a fine addition to the crew, but his persistent-bordering-on-insane assassination attempts on Whitebeard wasn't something they could just sweep under the carpet. Ace had lost his crew and his ship, after all. It was one of the worst humiliations that a Captain could be put through, though it was tempered somewhat when your opponent was the strongest man in the world.

It didn't help that Marco – usually the one who took the longest to accept newbies – had taken to the super rookie like oil to a flame. And, well, hard as it was to admit, a growing part of him really like the kid too.

Caught between his own conflicting feelings, he supposed he could put the blame on it that he had missed the first signs of distress in the kid.

"Rakuyo?"

That night Ace had gone to his father and slept on his lap (and darn, he did admire the kid's guts for that) had eased his suspicions somewhat, but he couldn't – wouldn't – allow himself to truly accept the fire-user until he was proved wrong.

The commander shifted the newspaper to his lap to stare at the freckled pirate mutely. When had the kid appeared? It must be true, he inwardly thought, the saying that if you think of them enough, they too would appear. To his surprise, the kid was wearing a black shirt, quite unlike his initial choice of bright colours like that rather garish yellow.

Contrary to the eager expression he was used to, Ace seemed to shrink under his hard gaze. "Uh, it's nothing," the teen muttered. The fire-user moved to stand up from his seat across the older man. "I'll see you around."

Rakuyo blinked in surprise. He worked his jaw, trying to appear more open. "No, hey, hold on."

Ace cast him a wary look. "Yeah?"

The commander suppressed a sigh, unable to brush aside the light tingling of guilt. If he was indeed wrong in his doubts (and he did want to be wrong), then it was too unfair of him to treat the other so. "I'm sorry," he offered, forcing out a smile. "I had a bad morning."

Ace regarding him for a moment, and the commander was almost sure the kid would walk away until the younger nodded and returned to his seat.

"It's fine," the freckled pirate returned. He scratched the back of his head. "I'm not quite sure how to say it, and it's been bothering me a little…" He paused, seeming to think about it, before he slapped a palm to his forehead with a sigh. "You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything. It's probably nothing anyway. But tha-"

Huh. So the cocky kid could get flustered too, huh? Rakuyo cracked an amused smile, a little more genuine than the one before, but was sure to hide it. He had heard from the others how the kid hated to be treated like a, well, kid. "You can tell me," he cut in.

The fire-user trailed off. His hands reached up to tug the sides of his cowboy hat down. "It's just- is there something wrong with me?" he blurted out.

"There's nothing wrong with you," the commander said sharply. "Did someone say something?"

"Well, no, but, uh, people keep staring at me," Ace admitted.

Rakuyo leaned back, trying to conceal his surprise, and calmly requested the kid to stand. He had the nagging suspicion of the cause of the problem.

With reddened cheeks, the fire-user did so, but not without fidgeting every few seconds as the older man looked him over. The kid looked…different, that was true. But the only varying factor was the v-neck top. That, coupled with his black knee-length shorts and his cowboy hat, gave him the general appearance of a very confident young adult who was up for some adventure. Who else would dare wear orange these days anyway?

Of course the speckle of freckles on his cheeks pulled numbers from his age, making him look even younger than his seventeen years. But what truly caught his attention was how the kid gave off an air of mischief, with his wide grey eyes that was just nicely shadowed by his hat. Combined, the kid looked too, well, _good_.

"Well?" Ace said impatiently.

The commander dragged his gaze away. Maybe he could tone down the appeal a little…If he was right, the kid would be going into port straight after lunch. "It's nothing to worry about," he answered smoothly. "On a curious note, Ace, do you happen to have any other shirts?"

The kid looked surprised. "Shirts?" He looked down at his top. "Is there something wrong with my shirt?"

"It seems a little…worn, that's all."

"Oh." Ace frowned. "You think that's why people keep staring at me wherever I go?"

Rakuyo almost snorted in derision. The kid had no idea.

The teen didn't wait for an answer. "Maybe I shouldn't wear a shirt at all then," he muttered as he pulled at his top. "Izo didn't have much to spare, and I don't really like how restricting it is…"

The commander cut in before the kid could continue down that path. "You should wear it, Ace," he insisted. "At least, for today. Izo would be upset if you didn't."

Ace looked startled, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. He flushed. "You're right." He smiled tentatively. "Thanks, Commander!"

For some reason, the title didn't sit well with the older man. He grunted as he reached for his papers once more. "Rakuyo," he corrected. He stared hard at a random article. "You don't call Marco by his title. I expect no discrimination from you, got it, kid?"

…

A snort. "Fine, but call me kid again and I'll start calling you Captain."

…

He had to admit again. The kid sure had guts.

* * *

"There you are. You should keep from doing that, Ace," Izo chastised lightly.

Ace almost jumped, but swivelled round to see the kimono-clad pirate staring at him, an elegant eyebrow arched. Butterflies danced in his stomach. No, he wasn't afraid of the commander. But the older man made him nervous, for some reason. He figured it must have something to do with the way the latter peered at him, as if he could see more of him than he wanted to reveal. That, and the fact that the others – inclusive of and especially Thatch – seemed to be wary around this particular man.

He struggled to hide his unease. "Doing what?"

The raven-haired man seemed to hide a smile. "Disappearing," he answered. "We always seem to have to look for you when we need you."

Need him? Why did they need him? Ace frowned. "Did something happen?"

Izo waved him concerns away. "Of course not. But we can't have Marco or that chef stealing you away all the time." He hooked an arm around the fire-user's. "That's why we are going shopping together."

Ace stiffened. "What?"

"Oh, in port. We're docking a little earlier than we thought so, let's get going, shall we?"

"But, Marco-"

Izo's grip on his arm tightened as he turned to the younger with a dimmed smile. "Oh, you already had plans?" he said, his tone sounding almost disappointed. "I had thought I could have you to myself this time…" he trailed off. "I even had Marco tell you that I was looking for you too."

 _Izo wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning. Thought I should warn you._

 _Thought I should warn you._

Is this what the blonde had meant? Ace took one look at the island and then at the commander looking at him with saddened eyes. He inwardly sighed as he pondered on his choices. Even if it was an act, he hated that look on the other's face. And he honestly did feel a little bad.

"We can go together," he offered. He tried a smile.

A brief flash of surprise crossed the older's countenance before his lips stretched into a pleased smile. "Come then. We have much to do, little brother."

* * *

Ace resisted the urge to check himself. Something was wrong, he knew it. Everywhere he went, he could feel stares boring into his back. When he turned to find and possibly beat the cause into dust, he would find an empty street where everyone would look at anything but at him.

Just what the heck was going on?

Next to him, Izo was happily dragging him from store to store as he explained the kind of material he used for his kimonos, and if please, please, would the fire-user let him make one for him because he would look absolutely lovely in an red and orange kimono with the black flowers embroidered on top. He wondered if the commander was completely unaware of how uncomfortable he was feeling.

He inwardly sighed. He wished the first commander was with him. At least he wouldn't feel too stupid if he confided in the man. He hated all this attention.

A gentle hand slipped around his right elbow. "So," a soft voice interrupted his inner musings, "shall we go purchase some material for clothes or do you want to head for lunch first?"

The fire-user looked at his brother in askance. "It's not lunch yet," he pointed out, suppressing the urge to just nod and head to lunch _now_ 'cause food always made him feel better.

Izo smiled knowingly. "I don't know about you, dear brother of mine," – Ace reddened at the term, and at the resurfacing of that smug look, that the commander had known it would too – "but I'm famished. But I would wait if you aren't that ready for-"

"Lunch it is!" Ace interrupted. He smirked at the surprise that the other carefully hid. Oh no, he was no kid to play around with. He did know how to throw in a surprise or two. Finding that he did like the idea of seeing the other not quite in control, he decided to go one step further.

"I saw a ramen restaurant a little while ago, so let's have that, shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the fellow pirate and dragged him along as he ran.

"Stop it!" Izo shrieked. "We can walk!"

"Thought you said you were hungry?"

"I'm not so hungry I would run like a starved cat!"

"Well, I am, so come on, let's go!"

* * *

Ace perused the shelves of perfume curiously. Fancy glass bottles lined the wooden ledge, each marked with a strip so elegant he almost had to struggle to read it. Faint muttering somewhere down the aisle assured the fire-user that Izo was still busy checking out the merchandise, and since the older man had yet to ask for his opinion, he would probably be stuck here for some time yet.

He suppressed a sigh at the thought. This really wasn't his thing.

Biting the insides of his cheek, Ace turned to find something more entertaining – maybe that section earlier where people kept spraying each other, though he didn't get why – when his shoulder bumped into a shelf next to him, effectively knocking several products to the floor. He winced at the resounding crash.

"Oh no no no no." Ace ran his hands over the mess desperately. Damn it damn it! Marco was- forget Marco! Izo was going to have his head!

A shrill voice added to his panic. "What is going on?!"

The fire-user looked up to see a young brunette gaping at the broken shards. He flushed. "I'm so sorry," he said hurriedly. He held his hands up. "I didn't mean to! I'm so, so sorry!"

At the sound of his voice, the sales lady turned to him. Her breath hitched. "Oh my." She took a step back, her fingers shaking as they covered her mouth.

This didn't look too good. "I'm sorry, I really am!" Ace stood up and, to his dismay, a light flush took to her cheeks as she stepped away from him. He ran a hand through his hair. "Look," he said, holding his hands up. "I may be a pirate and you probably heard a lot of rubbish about them and not all of them are true. Well, some of them are, of course, so you still have to be careful but I'm not! Really. This is all just an accident. I'll put it right back up for you and, no no no, are you going to cry?"

Not quite sure what to do, Ace did the only thing he could think of. His hands flailed almost violently as he scrambled to pick up the displaced items and set them back on their rightful locations. In his haste, some were knocked right back off and only his quick reflexes prevented another similar incident. His face burned. Slow the heck down, you moron, he scolded himself. You look a right fool!

"There," he said, almost breathless. "See? All right as rain."

"What's going on?" a soft voice asked mildly.

Ace shot up to see Izo who was staring from him to the sales lady, his features carefully blank.

The teen looked horrified. "Izo! Uh, nothing."

The kimono-clad pirate lifted an elegant eyebrow. "Then why do you look so guilty?"

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do," Izo replied smoothly. His dark eyes slid to stare at the sales lady, unblinking. "From the crash I heard, it seems my brother had made quite the mess." The lady immediately flinched at his voice. "How much to cover the damage, young lady?"

"E-excuse me?"

Ace watched with bated breath as the sales lady was further hammered with unrelenting questions as, for some reason, her gaze kept flicking to him before promptly looking away every time. It was apparent Izo seemed pretty miffed by this as he snapped, "Look at me when I'm talking to you! Did no one teach you islanders any respect?"

She had squeaked out a reply and the two pirates left with several products free-of-charge, much to the teen's confusion.

Nevertheless, Ace had a feeling they wouldn't be returning any time soon.

"Ace," Izo said, his voice full of authority, "when I get back, stick close to me. This island is too full of morons. You never know what they might do."

Pushing away the urge to claim his own capability to take care of himself, Ace asked instead, "Where are you going?"

The commander threw him a hard look. "I just need to see the commanders for a while. Stay here, and if anyone talks to you, just punch them in the face."

* * *

Ace, being the obedient pirate that he was, spent the next hour flitting from one corner of the town to the next, and made it a point to smile and stop for several short conversations with the townspeople. It had become apparent he had come to the nicer part of town, and who could resist free food too?

"Yeah!" He nodded his head vigorously. "I just haven't taken the mark yet."

A series of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' followed his revelations and he smiled at them in return. A young brunette sat herself next to him, her body tilted towards him as she tilted her head, her long curved eyelashes framing large brown eyes. She wore a black tank top, topped with a green camouflage jacket, with jeans cut at her knees. Her lips curled into a smile when he stared at her blankly.

A hand touched his knee.

"That is so amazing," she gushed. "A Whitebeard pirate. It's like a fantasy so distant I can only dream about it."

Ace shifted as he frowned. "Why?" he asked, swallowing his food in one gulp. He looked her up and down, missing the pleased gleam in her onyx orbs. "Just go for it."

"Go for it?" she asked, blinking prettily.

"Yeah. Just train a lot, get out there, and give it your best shot. You just have to be sure if you really want it." The fire-user paused, as if lost in thought. "Freedom comes at a price, after all."

The brunette looked disappointed. She sidled closer to him. "Well, before you go, maybe you could show me a few pointers? I'd _love_ to see what you can do."

Ace looked surprised. "Pointers?" His cheeks reddened. "Me? I don't think I have much to-" He was cut off when an arm slung around him.

"There you are," a familiar voice said loudly into his ear. "We've been looking all over the island for you, little bro."

The teen scowled when the grip turned into a headlock. "Thatch!"

The commander ignored him as his gaze swept through the crowd of people. "My, it seems we have quite the audience," he remarked, his eyes turning to rest on the lady who had just earlier been talking to Ace. His grin turned icy. "And who do we have here?"

Ace squirmed under his grip until he took pity on the kid and lessened it enough such that the fire-user could lean against him comfortably without choking. "Do you know her, Ace?"

The teen glared at him. "I just met her, you moron. Now let me go!" At the chef's pointed look, he relented. "She wanted some pointers to become a pirate, okay? What's the deal?" He muttered under his breath, "Like I can't teach."

"A pirate, huh?" Thatch eyed her critically and the freckled pirate could almost believe he saw a flash of scorn in his brother's features.

The brunette in question squeaked out a reply. "N-no, y-yes, I mean, I'm sorry!"

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart," the commander replied, his words belying his dark look. "This kid," – Ace choked when he tightened his grip – "needs way more experience before he can teach you lot. What if he accidentally kills you?"

The lady paled. "K-kill me?"

Thatch nodded solemnly. He let Ace go and pushed him towards the entrance. "Go find the other commanders, okay?" He winked. "They were searching for you." Without waiting for an answer, he turned towards the audience with a cheery smile.

"Why don't I give you pointers instead?"

* * *

Ace yelped when he felt something brush against his thigh. He reflexively took two steps away, his cheeks flushed as he mentally cursed himself for shrieking. He turned, his fists ready to light up in flames, only to see another female islander smiling at him in obvious amusement.

 _This island sure has a lot of females_.

"Can I help you?" he snapped, already feeling his last threads of his temper begin to fray. It didn't help that the feeling of being stared at and followed hadn't abated at all. Then his new siblings had found it fit to push him around from one commander to the next. Now, strangers were bumping him left and right!

The islander laughed, a grating sound that tore at his nerves. "This one sure has a temper," she commented lightly. "My name is Kel. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ace dropped all pretence of being polite and glowered at her. "What do you want?"

Uncertainty flashed through Kel's young features but she composed herself just as quickly. "I was walking by and thought you looked a little tired. Would you like to come by my family's tavern at the other side of town?" She wagged a finger at him when he parted his lips. "Free food, of course."

The words 'shove off!' died on the teen's tongue as he considered her offer. "Why would you offer me that?" he asked suspiciously.

Kel looked sufficiently surprised. "We always make it a point to offer travellers like you free food." She reached up and slid a smooth finger down his cheek. "You poor dear," she said, almost pitying. "You must be so tired."

Ace drew back, suddenly remembering how she had- she had touched his thigh! Annoyance rippled through him. Who did she think she was? "Don't touch me!" he shouted, suddenly angry and too pissed off to deal with anyone. Kel stumbled back in surprise. "That's it, shove off before I-"

"Ace."

The fire-user froze, only to see both Marco and Vista staring at them both. What caught his attention though was the manner the blonde crossed his arms, looking suitably unimpressed.

Before he could allow himself to feel bad, he straightened, defiance pulling his features into a glare. "What?" he demanded hotly. "Are you going to tell me to leave and find someone else to escort me around town?" Flames flickered across his shoulders. Beside him, Kel uttered a loud cry. He ignored her. "Or maybe send me back to the ship?"

The corners of Vista's lips twitched into a smile. "Not really, Fire Fist. We were going to tell you that the family's going to gather at _Hell's Party_ tonight. It's a bar at the other side of town."

Ace narrowed his eyes. "That's it?"

"That's it," Vista answered in affirmation.

Marco gave Ace and Kel one last look, before he nodded and turned to walk away. "Don't go too far, Ace, yoi."

The teen could have sworn the blonde had looked proud.

* * *

[Location: _Hell's Party_ ]

"You're hot."

Ace barely held back a choke. He raised his head to see a spindly, handsome young brunet looking at him, the corners of his lips curved in an easy smile. Long eyelashes framed crimson eyes that shone a lustful garnet under the bar's shady lighting.

"I-I'm sorry?"

Dark eyebrows lifted at his words, as if surprised the pirate was capable of such politeness. Emboldened by the knowledge that he had yet to be punched or kicked out the bar, his smile widened even as he invited himself to sit across the teen. "I said," he repeated, "you're hot."

Ace scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, uh, sorry? I didn't really notice…" His gaze darted across the bar, and was met with several scowls from the few members of his crew that sat scattered across the room. He mildly noted that they weren't the only ones. Other customers seemed to sit away from him, and while most refused to glance his way, they shot his now companion looks of unease. Did they think…?

"Now, now, why would you be sorry?" The red eyes appeared to sparkle. "How modest."

The teen frowned. "There's no need to patronise me. If it makes you that uncomfortable, you could just leave me alone like the rest of them."

Surprise crossed the brunet's features, and he surveyed the room in silence. He let out a soft chuckle. "I'm not certain what you're getting at, but," – at this moment, his gaze pointedly raked the fire-user from head to foot – "I have a proposition for you." He held up a hand when the younger moved to speak. "It's a new way to make some money."

A scoff. "I don't need to make some money."

"Let's see... It's a new _and fun_ way to make some money."

Ace moved to get up. "Sorry to burst your bubble, stranger, but I'm a pirate. We don't earn money like you folks do."

To the teen's surprise, the brunet grabbed at his arm and dragged him back. "There's no harm in at least listening to what I have to say, right?"

Annoyance filtered through the fire-user then. Why wouldn't this man leave him alone? He would have burned him to a crisp too – or, well, at least burnt the skin off his fingers for touching him so familiarly at least – but Marco had warned the crew against making a scene at this town. Too bad their resident mother hen was too busy clucking at their dwindled finances that he had sternly threatened them bodily harm if they so much as scratched the tip of a wooden spoon until they found another ship to raid.

It was, well, it was really just too bad. Survival often came down to beli in the end.

Ace flopped back into his seat, a scowl marring his boyish features. "You have one minute," he snapped. "What do you want me to do? Roast some marshmallows? Barbeque some meat? Maybe turn the heat up in this forsaken place you call _Hell's Party_?"

The stranger burst into the sort of laughter that had the pirate cringing in disgust. It was the type that screamed too much of faux joy and pretend interest. "I did say you're hot, but I certainly didn't mean in that way. Although…" His eyes took on that feral gleam again. "We sure could have the heat turned up a little bit here."

Grey orbs closed in a bid for more patience. "And your proposition..?"

The man shifted under his steely glare. "Here's the deal. I'm a businessman. I have my own business running at the other side of town and…we need people like you. Your muscles, your build." His lips twitched. "You look like a very fine young, male adult. As an added bonus, like I said, you're very hot."

"And you want me to do what exactly?"

A hand waved his questions away. "Oh nothing much. Just entertain a few of our guests. Make them happy. You're strong, aren't you?"

The fire-user tilted his head. "You couldn't tell?"

"Well then. You could maybe show our guests…a few moves, if you get my drift."

"Actually, I don't," Ace said bluntly. "You've basically told me nothing except that I'm hot."

The brunet frowned, but cleared a moment later as understanding dawned on his features. "Playing hard to get now, are we?" he chuckled. "You can't pretend you don't understand, pirate. First of all, you are a pirate. And wearing _that_. If that's not to flaunt what you've got, who are you dressing up so nicely for?"

The freckled teen looked affronted. "Give me one reason I shouldn't punch your lights out," he hissed.

The man held up his hands, placating. "Come on. It'd be such a shame to hide such mouth-wateringly _hot_ -"

A light rap on the table interrupted them.

"Excuse me. Am I interrupting?"

Ace blinked at the sudden appearance of his kimono-clad brother. "Izo? It's not time to leave yet, is it?"

Izo smiled sweetly at him. "Oh no, not yet. We still have a few hours." He walked around the table to stand behind the fire-user, only to lift the cowboy hat off the latter's back and press it against the top of his head with a dainty hand. He leaned forward to whisper loudly in the kid's ear. "Why don't you go see Thatch for a bit? The poor dear has had a little too much to drink, and I tire of his stories when he's drunk."

The younger pirate nodded. "Okay then. I don't really-" Dismay then flitted across his freckled features. "Wait. You're not telling me to go because I'm hot, are you?"

The commander didn't hesitate. "Of course not. I've just heard his stories of adventure a little too many times. But then I remembered you love hearing about them so, why not?"

Ace gave him a measured look. He sighed. "Fine. It just better not be because of the heat or anything." He glanced at the annoyed man across from him. "Sorry, stranger, but not sorry."

"Hey, hold it," the brunet argued. "I wasn't even done."

"Oh no, you're not," the commander interjected. "Why don't you discuss the finer details of your _proposition_ to me instead?"

The other man glared at him. "Like I would bother with an okama like you. You're nothing com-"

A flaming fist pushed past the empty space and slammed the offending person onto the concrete floor. A high-pitched scream followed after.

"Don't you insult my brother!" Ace shouted. An angry scowl marred his face as he raised his clenched fist.

The man writhed on the ground, his hands clutching at the burns on his cheek, as he howled in pain. Glazed eyes stared at the fire-user in horror. "W-what-what are you?!"

"Fire Fist Ace, you dirtbag," the teen snapped. He narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you know? You did say I was hot, right? It's the Mera-Mera No Mi. I give off a pretty high temperature even when I don't mean to."

He gaped. "F-fire Fist?"

"That's right," Izo cut in, a sickening sweet smile still plastered on his powdered features. His hand stole into his kimono to drag out a polished gun. "Of the Whitebeards."

This time, the man paled into sheet white. "W-Whiteb-beard?" he whispered. "N-no. I wasn't g-going to hurt him! P-please!"

The commander readied his weapon. "Ace?"

"Yeah?"

"Thatch is still waiting."

Ace shot him a disgruntled look. "He was insulting you. I want to teach him a lesson too!"

Izo ignored his protests and nudged him towards the exit. Behind them, their other brothers had gotten to their feet, smirks and the cracking of knuckles adding to the terse atmosphere. "This one is mine, sweetie." He shooed the teen away. "Go on," he murmured. "We have a lesson we need to teach people like him."

The fire-user's lower lip jutted out in unhappiness, but acquiesced after giving the offending idiot a hard kick at his foot. He supposed there would be a next time. There always were those who failed to understand that they didn't take lightly to insults.

"Don't take too long."

* * *

Much to Ace's surprise and general unhappiness, the next few days consisted of Izo rapidly changing his wardrobe. His black shirts were thrown out, to be promptly replaced by shirts of bigger sizes, of brighter colours, and once the commander had even tried to make him wear a red polka-dotted green dress shirt. He had burned the offending thing into dust. Despite the strange protest he faced, he refused to change out of his pants, and thankfully no one had suggested he forego his beloved hat. That would have been the final straw.

In his desperation to make his newfound family stop their sudden attention on him, he had even gone to Marco for help. The blonde had looked at him with a frown, as if torn, before telling him that sometimes, family did the strangest things but he should never forget they always did so with the best intentions.

Whitebeard, though, had offered to tell the crew to stop. But that would mean letting the crew know they had gone too far and had driven their newest brother to their father in complaint. Ace hadn't yet had the heart to do that. And by the gleam in his captain's eyes, he knew the Yonko approved of his decision.

"Okay, hold up," Ace proposed in exasperation. "If it's so much trouble, why don't I just _not_ wear a shirt?"

Vista slammed the table. "What? No!"

Ace looked startled, and felt maybe a little hurt. "It was just a suggestion," he muttered as he crossed his arms. He glowered at his food. What was the big deal anyway?

Thatch cleared his throat. "Come on, Ace," he said, his hand held out. "Why don't we spar for a bit? I haven't practiced in a while."

The fire-user's glare shifted to the chef. "Fine," he snapped. "I'm about ready to kick some ass." He stood up and stalked off.

The fourth commander looked at the kid's retreating form haplessly. "I have to fight that?" he mumbled to himself as he followed. He ran to catch up.

* * *

Marco wasn't surprised to see Ace lounging on his back on the figurehead. The kid had been as moody as the sea ever since the trip inland, and it took careful interference on his part to ensure the others knew why exactly their newest brother glowered at them at every opportunity. Heck, the kid had been so pissed he managed to throw the fourth commander into the sea several times during their spar the other day.

Even Thatch's hair hadn't survived the trips.

He snorted. And they called him a mother hen. Like Ace couldn't handle some islanders who couldn't keep their grubby paws off him. And their annoying stares.

He must have alerted the teen as he approached, for suddenly a pair of stormy grey eyes followed him as he came forward. "Mind if I sit, yoi?"

Ace regarded him for a full minute before jerking his chin in affirmation. "Do whatever you want."

"Still throwing a tantrum, huh?" he asked casually, only to suppress a snicker when the younger scowled. "Only kidding, Ace. Although, I'm quite surprised you haven't set the ship on fire yet."

"They should count themselves lucky then, the morons," the freckled pirate muttered.

Marco noted he hadn't been included in the equation. He felt a tug at the corners of his lips. Perhaps his brothers were right. The kid did favour him over the rest. And though favouritism wasn't encouraged among family (or for any healthy pirate crew for that matter), he had to say he felt honoured.

He lowered himself to lay down next to the grumbling kid. "I hope you understand that they had the best of intentions at heart, yoi."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You told me." Ace threw him a puzzled look, though it did little to hide his disgruntlement. "Are you ever going to tell me why they suddenly turned into incessant, fussy mother hens? Wasn't that your job?"

Marco tried to look offended. "Not if you keep talking like that, you brat." He allowed a pregnant pause – at which the kid's lower lip jutted out, just as he had expected – before letting out a full-throated laugh. "Am I really that much of a mother hen?"

He glanced to his side to see Ace gaping at him, before quickly covering it up with a cough.

"Not really," the kid answered. He looked thoughtful. "Well, you _are_ a mother hen, with all the nagging, the glares and everything else a mother hen does thrown in. But you have your own way of doing it, you know? You know how to be subtle, when to pitch someone off the ship, when to say enough and when to say a lot, and all that stuff." He shrugged. "Not like those idiots back there. All they do is drag me around and telling me what to do without telling me much at all!"

The blonde had to admit he felt slightly (only slightly, he told himself) warmed at the kid's description of him. "But I'm still annoying too, yoi," he commented.

"Of course," Ace said without pausing. "No one likes to be told off."

Marco smirked. "Especially you."

To his surprise, the teen didn't respond to the banter, and instead threw him a sly look. "Oh, not me," he said as he grinned. "The Captain."

The blonde's eyebrows lifted, before he snickered along with his brother.

"I have never seen him as unhappy as when you take away his liquor," Ace continued as he laughed under his breath.

Marco nudged at him. "It's for his own good, yoi. Someone has to be responsible."

Ace returned the bump. "Mother hen." And damn him if he was wrong, but the commander was sure he heard a hint of affection in the words.

A comfortable silence ensued, only to be broken not three seconds later when the kid sat up, his expression suddenly eager and his grey eyes bright. A hand shot out to tug at his arm, and he slowly followed the younger's example, albeit at a slower pace.

Despite himself, he couldn't help the soft chuckle at the kid's enthusiasm. "What is it?"

"I know where to put my mark!" Ace whispered loudly, completely failing to keep his voice from carrying over to the front of the ship.

Marco straightened and he leaned forward to encourage the kid to continue.

The beam that everyone had come to call his 'sunny smile' plastered itself on the younger's face. The hold on the blonde's arm practically shook in time with the kid's excitement.

"Go on, yoi," the commander remarked drily. "Keep me in suspense."

The 'sunny smile' turned brighter. "I'm going to have mine just as large like yours!" Ace exclaimed.

Blue eyes widened and, on Whitebeard's moustache, Marco felt for a moment his heart almost skip a beat. He couldn't help it. Never had anyone ever looked up to him as much as this kid. It wasn't that he wasn't cared for among his family, but this freckled, childish teenager never saw him as more than Marco. The title of First Mate and First Division Commander were all but titles to him.

He offered the teen a small, if not grateful, smile. He did wish the kid would make his own choices, without influence from other people, but who was he to deny the kid when Ace had made his choice?

"On your front then?" he asked softly.

To his surprise, the freckled kid shook his head. "Nope!" He pushed for a pause before dramatically announcing, "On my back!"

Marco froze.

…

The others would not be happy to hear that.

* * *

 **That's it. Please let me know what you think. :)**


	10. When Ace is left alone

**Hello everyone!**

 **It's been sometime, again, but here's another chapter! This will, hopefully, be a short author's note because I am so tired and I really want to sleep and I have work tomorrow and still have so much work to do...**

 **Thank you so much for your reviews, favourites and follows! Thank you, I love you guys, I love your support and I'm rambling again.**

 **A forewarning, however. I have been working on this request, and it's a little hard to put it in as a chapter as there isn't really a plot, but this is what I did manage to cough up. It's not that long, but I hope you guys would still deign to read it and let me know what you think. Most importantly, please enjoy it.**

 **Also, WARNING: this chapter may contain OOC-ness, may be boring, but I already wrote it out so ta-daa! I was writing a different chapter, initially, but that would take too long to write out, so I finished up this one first. To be frank, I'm not quite sure how Ace would react to being left alone, but this is my take on it.**

 **And for all of you who gave me your support, thank you. I know I don't have to write if I don't want to, but I really do. I love writing. I may not be great at it, but I do love it, and I love that somehow other people like what I did write too. A quick update on Bleeding through the Seams & Stuck: I most likely will update it within the next month (hopefully!), so do keep a watch out on that. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: When Ace is left alone**

"Hey, have you seen Marco?" Ace asked, his head slightly tilted as he watched Fossa tend to his various (and dangerous) plants.

The commander barely looked up from his task, and the fire-user could have sworn he saw an eyebrow twitch at his question. He resisted the urge to shuffle his feet in discomfort.

"He's in his rooms," Fossa answered not a moment later. He reached down to pick up a purple bottle spray. "Just leave whatever you have to pass to him by his door. He'll get back to you when he can."

The teen mumbled a thanks before he made his escape. He had heard that Fossa didn't appreciate company whenever he checked on his plants (that were all over the ship too), but he hadn't thought it would be to the extent where even a simple question would bother him. He wasn't the only one. It had become apparent since a few nights before that everyone was, well, _busy_.

Whitebeard's health had taken a hit a few days before and the nurses had all but forced him into bedrest, and even if Ace could have visited him for company, he wouldn't have wanted to disturb the old man. No one had seemed too worried, though, and so the teen had forced himself to relax too when Thatch told him it happened sometimes, and their captain was strong. But then, what did bother him was how all the commanders and most crew members were suddenly so busy, as if someone had dropped tonnes of work on them and left them to drown.

Ace kicked a loose pebble, all the while grumbling under his breath. They wouldn't even let him help.

" _You're still new to the crew," Vista explained. "There's not much you can help us with since we haven't taught you the ropes yet." He grinned. "So do whatever you want in the meantime. Just don't burn down the ship, eh?"_

Right. He was the Captain of the Spades pirates. He had brought them through the Grand Line and Paradise, into the New World and had made a huge name for himself even before he was initiated into the Whitebeard pirates. Heck, the marines had wanted him to be a Shichibukai.

Annoyance rippled through the teen. He may still be lacking, but he wasn't some rookie that couldn't do or didn't know anything. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to remind them.

* * *

Thatch shouted, "Watch the flames, watch the flames! The flames!"

Cursing when all his subordinate did was give him a blank stare, the commander jumped over the counter and quickly lifted the pan away from the flames that fanned the stove. He lowered the heat, glanced at the simmering mess in his hand, and then switched it off altogether.

"And this," he said as he shook the frying pan, "is why you never leave your food unattended if you're not confident you can multi-task." He moved to throw the burnt food away. "We are at sea. Every morsel of food is important to our survival. I would rather each and every one of you take a longer time to learn properly, than to have this happen again. Are we clear?"

"Yes, commander!"

The head chef grinned. He clapped his hands. "Great! Now, to-" A knock at the kitchen entrance interrupted him. "Oh, we have a guest?" He waved at his trainees. "Look through page 54. I'll be right back."

Thatch hurried to the door. He had an inkling as to who it was. Everyone was up to their elbows prepping for that seasonal change in duties and the like. And very few were uninvolved, and that included one…

"Ace?"

The commander suppressed the urge to frown when (and he was right) the fire-user gave him a flat stare. "Hey, are you okay?"

Ace regarded him with a measured look, but acquiesced. "I'm fine. I just wanted to check with you on something."

Thatch nodded. "Go on."

"There's a town nearby. Marco's too busy for me to ask him, and you were the only one I could think of." Ace shrugged. "Think you could let me off so I can drop by the island for a bit?"

The older man had to suppress the instinctive urge to answer an immediate 'no', his surprise at the question notwithstanding. He carefully kept his features calm. The kid looked too serious to be kidding, and somehow something told him that Ace would wreak havoc on the ship should he refuse the request.

…on the other hand, their resident mother hen would flay him alive if he agreed.

"Why do you want to go to the island?" he asked instead.

The kid's shoulders rose and fell again. "I feel like it."

The commander lifted an eyebrow. "That's not a good enough reason, Ace. We don't have enough people to send you out with, and we'd still have to clear it with Marco and Oyaji first. And you know they'd never allow you to-"

" _That's_ why," Ace cut in, his grey eyes bright with something sharp, "I'm asking _you_."

Thatch took in the tense fire-user. The kid's arms were folded, hiding what appeared to be clenched fists, and, alarmingly, the kid had that look of stubborn determination that the older man knew only Marco or Whitebeard could ease. He resisted pulling the kid into a hug. "What's wrong?" He reached out to lightly brush against the younger's chin. "You seem angry."

Ace looked away. "Nothing's wrong. I just want to go to town and do some stuff."

There was a momentary pause.

"Are you," Thatch began slowly as an idea started to form in his mind, "are you _bored_?" At the look of silent anger thrown at him, he raised his hands in surrender. Oh, he knew what this was about. Lucky for the kid, he wasn't Marco. The blue chicken would have sent the kid straight to his rooms. "Come on, come with me." He looped an arm around the teen's shoulders and dragged him to along.

"What? Hey, you didn't answer the question."

The commander shrugged. "Seems to me you just want someone to hang out with, or you want something to do around here."

Ace turned red. "That's not true!" he spluttered.

Thatch let out a laugh. "No need to hide it, Ace-kun," he teased. Oh it was so easy to rile the kid up. No wonder Marco disapproved of anyone messing with the kid too much. That idiot mother hen. "I've been there, and the feeling sucks, I know."

The fire-user's glare toned down a notch. An uncertain look replaced the previous irritation. "Really?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course! You're relatively new to piracy and you want to do anything but sit down and relax. You want to help out but no one's giving you the time of day." Thatch chuckled when Ace shot him an incredulous look.

"But you're a commander."

"Commander schmander. I had to start from somewhere. It's not like I came onboard all strong and cool like this, kiddo."

A snort. "You're not cool. You're just…Thatch."

Thatch snuck him an amused look. "And that's why you love me." He steered the younger into the mess hall and gestured for him to sit down. He headed over to the leftovers for breakfast, scooped what he could into one of the larger bowls, and brought it over the fire-user. "Here," he said as he handed the other a spoon.

Ace raised an eyebrow. "Porridge," he muttered. "You'd think I was hungry every second the way you feed me." Despite his words, the fire-user dug in.

The two fell into comfortable silence and the commander took the time to watch his younger brother thoughtfully. He had learnt (as had his other siblings) many, many things about Ace during their admittedly short time together. He had learnt the kid was fiercely independent, that he had an adorable love for mischief, and of course had that weird attachment to one first division commander. He loved to spar, had a knack for fixing things and nothing could stop him from listening to Oyaji's stories.

Ace had adapted so well to them once he took up the mark that it was hard to imagine them without the kid now, hard to remember that just a few months back this little kid was captaining his own crew miles away.

Something uneasy settled in his stomach. Thatch didn't like thinking of that. He didn't like remembering that once, members of his family hadn't been his family.

And this young boy – man, he grudgingly corrected – would grow to be a great pirate one day. Put some years on him and he'd be one of the strongest and kindest man to sail the seas. Until that time though, Thatch was going to savour these little moments. He almost sighed. The heartbreaks of an older brother.

"Ace?" he suddenly said.

The said pirate looked up to glance at him, but took a double-take when the brunette smiled.

"Don't go to the island, okay?" the commander went on. Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best way to convince the kid, but Thatch didn't think his heart could accept the idea of the kid taking off on his own. Not then, at least, not while his insides were melting into goo at the wide-eyed look Ace was sporting.

"T-that's-" Ace rolled his eyes. "Why not?" he demanded, a spoon lifted halfway to his mouth.

Thatch guided the spoon into the kid's mouth, chuckling when the younger gave a muffled protest. "For me?"

Ace coughed. He brushed aside the glass of water that was offered to him and dropped his spoon with a loud _clang_. "Why not? Everyone's busy and it's not like anyone needs me here. Let me do my own thing if you won't give me anything to do!"

"You're free to do whatever you want, Ace," Thatch said patiently. "As long as you stay at home."

"Home?" the fire-user repeated in disbelief. "My home's not-" He clapped a hand over his mouth then, eyes wide. "I mean, that's not what I, Thatch, I-"

Thatch waved his words away. "It's fine, kiddo." He offered the kid a small smile. "I understand. There's no need to explain."

"But I-"

The chef held up a finger. "Shhhh. I understand."

Ace seemed to shrink under his gaze. His shoulders slumped. He picked up the spoon again but, instead of eating, he played with the remaining of his post-breakfast.

After a while, he broke the silence. "I won't go to town," he mumbled. He spared the other man a short glance. "I promise."

…

A hand reached out to ruffle black locks. "Thank you."

* * *

" _You have to understand that all of us have our own individual responsibilities. There's no hurry to learn the ropes. Make use of this time for yourself, Ace. It's hard enough to spend enough time with so many siblings, let along for yourself, so take this time for_ you _. Okay? We'll come get you when we're done."_

Ace scowled to himself. That stupid, annoying chef. It seemed like Marco wasn't the only one who knew how to pull his strings. They always seemed to know what words to spout to get him to back down.

Ugh. So annoying.

It was just about half an hour before lunch, before everyone would start gathering at the mess hall. Already he had wandered through the many hallways and empty rooms on the Moby Dick. He had trained for a bit, and then decided it just wasn't worth it when he was surrounded by so much silence, with the only sounds his own pants and curses.

He supposed it had much to do with his past. Having a little brother who couldn't shut his mouth to save his life kept him accustomed to noise (not that he would call his brother a noise pollutant, but the kid _was_ noisy, had to give him that), and the only times they weren't talking at one point or another was when one of them was injured. Or when someone was hunting them down.

With the Spades, they had always been rowdy too.

He sighed. Silence just wasn't good in his book.

"Stupid idiots with their stupid rules," he muttered. And they wouldn't teach him yet either.

A small part of him entertained the idea of going to Marco. The blonde had offered him company when he had found him balancing on a railing, saying that the teen could hang out in his room while he worked on his paperwork. At least, he wouldn't be alone.

But Ace didn't want to burden the older man. He may be the youngest in the crew, but that didn't mean he had to go out of the way to prove just how childishly _young_ he was.

Another sigh. What was he to do now?

* * *

Marco rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

He closed the door to his room, albeit louder than was necessary, and leaned against it. His blue eyes immediately focused on the piles of reports on his desk. Part of him wanted to get Ace to burn the offending papers to the ground, while another entertained the idea of chucking them into the sea. To his annoyance, however, the more serious part of his mind contemplated how Oyaji would deal with him later if he chose to indulge.

He snorted. The poor Captain would probably send him to the infirmary.

And that, he told himself, was enough evidence that he had been spending way too much time with Ace. He moved towards his desk. Not that he could blame the kid he was thinking of him now. Just moments ago he had taken a break, convinced that the numbers swirling in his mind's eye would be banished should he just take a short breather.

What he didn't expect was to see Ace…balancing on a railing that overlooked the sea.

 _A jolt ran through him even as he was running a hand through his hair. His boots pounded against the wooden flooring and he leapt to grab at a thin wrist and the next moment, he found himself on the floor, above a wide-eyed teenager who had the audacity to gape at him when he just put him through_ that _._

" _What…are you doing, yoi?" he asked through gritted teeth._

 _Ace's features drained of almost all colour. "Uh, playing around?" he answered, though it sounded more like a question._

 _Marco had to breathe through his mouth. "On the_ railing _? With no one around? What were you thinking, yoi?" He glared at the little brat. "What if you fell in? You can't swim, in case you conveniently forgot, and no one would know until it's too late!"_

 _The kid rolled his eyes. "What's with the 'what if's? You're never going to live life if you keep thinking of what could happen!"_

" _Living life is balancing on the railing of a huge ship, yoi?" Marco raised his voice. "With a 50-50 chance of falling into the waters and then proceeding the long, tedious process of_ drowning _, all for the sake of a few precious seconds of_ balancing on a freaking railing _?"_

 _A heavy silence. A warm palm pressed against his chest and he allowed himself to be pushed back to his feet. Ace turned away from him._

" _I…want to start living before I start dying, Marco," he said softly. "I can't do that when I have nothing to do."_

 _When he had… Oh. It was about_ that _. He pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose, kneading the skin to ease off the oncoming headache. "Ace, yoi. Why don't you…why don't you come with me? I won't be much company, yoi, but you can stay with me until I'm done for the day."_

 _Ace barely graced him with a glance. "I'll think about it, Marco. I'll see you around." He took a step, hesitated, then threw over his shoulder, "I won't jump on anymore railings, if that's what you're so concerned about."_

…

Now that he thought about it, he really shouldn't have been that surprised. Even within the safety of his rooms, Marco still couldn't step the slight increase in his heart rate when he recalled that moment where Ace had been fooling around on deck. Two feet on the very thin railing, arms up high, and his childish freckled features scrunched into an expression of utmost concentration.

He should have known Ace wouldn't be happy when left to his own devices. He was too used to being surrounded by them, and if by how happy he looked when he was was any indication, of course he wouldn't have liked being alone. Then again, the Whitebeards were usually busy this time of year, and they hadn't yet taught Ace anything. He was still a regular member of the crew, regardless of how close he was to the commanders.

On that happy topic, the commander wasn't sure how to knock some sense into the kid, but he knew with dreaded certainty the day would come whereby he would have to sit Ace down and explain to him why they were so careful with him. It wasn't going to be pretty.

The blonde picked up a pen. He'll finish this up real quick and then go search for Ace.

Somehow, the idea of a fire-wielding teenager loose on the Moby Dick didn't seem that safe anymore.

* * *

Ace had avoided going for lunch.

It wasn't that he was avoiding his family- no, he just wasn't hungry. He was never hungry when he was feeling a little upset.

Instead, he had opted to train in his room. His crew thought him weak, so clearly that left only one option: train. He would have just headed to the nearest island and maybe kick some poor soul's butt, but he remembered the tender bordering on pleading look on Thatch's features. He couldn't do that to his brother. Not when he had already promised.

 _466, 467, 468, 469, 500…_

He let out a breath and pushed himself to his feet. He wrinkled his nose at his sweat-soaked body.

Maybe next a shower?

* * *

"Something's missing," Namur commented.

Haruta looked up from his meal. "What?" he asked in between munches.

A sigh. "Chew before you eat, Haruta."

"I'm a pirate, Vista! I can do whatever I want!"

Another sigh. "All of you are noisy, yoi."

"Oh, you're finally here," Namur said in greeting. He took in the dark circles and weary nod in his direction. Feeling a little bad, he wondered if he should still-

"You were saying, Namur?"

And that went that plan. The fishman cleared his throat. "Something feels…strange. Like something's missing."

The pirates at the table, mostly commanders, paused. They eyed each other curiously, as if waiting for someone to get it and then break it to them, when a look of realisation dawned on the first commander's features.

Before he could voice it, Thatch came over to the table and dropped into his seat. "Hey, where's Ace?"

* * *

Thatch was right.

It did feel great being left alone once in a while. Maybe it was the refreshing stream of cold water that hit him full on, but he did well and truly feel…refreshed. Ace started drying himself off, half contemplating setting himself on fire to quicken the process when he shrugged. It was nice feeling all wet and cool now and then.

Tying the towel around his waist, he started for his room. A low hum played at his lips. Maybe he should write a letter to Luffy next. Or, and get some sleep. It's been so long since he could just sleep and while away the day. His narcoleptic attacks really didn't count.

Just then, he tripped over his feet and was sent sprawling to the floor. His towel fell in a heap around him. _Oh, damn. This has got to be embarrassing if someone saw me._

And as fate (or luck) would have it, the pounding of boots against wood rang in his ears. A heated flush reddened the fire-user's features. _Damn damn damn!_ He scrambled to his feet and darted into the nearest room.

He barely got the towel through when a group of pirates ran past. His heart in his throat, Ace pressed his ears against the door. He probably should have wrapped himself up then, but oh no no no, there's another group of them…

"Check the showers. Maybe he's there."

"Got it!"

"The rest of you, spread out. Meet in front of the mess hall in twenty minutes."

Running footsteps...and okay, they were gone.

Ace looked down at himself. "Phew. They almost saw you naked."

He shook his head. Way to live on the edge, Ace.

* * *

Izo eyed at the group critically. The other commanders were standing in a circle in his room, after having discovered that he was the only one commander missing from the mess hall as well. One short explanation that he had not seen hide or hair of one particular fire-user all day had left them as they were now.

That is, after sending out a couple of their siblings to quietly search the ship for their missing fire-user.

"Maybe he's just loitering somewhere on the ship. No need to panic, right?" Haruta asked.

"What's the big deal though?" Izo cut in. "He hasn't been busy like the rest of us. Let him use this time as he pleases."

"Except," Marco interjected, a hint of frustration coating his words, "I did see him earlier, and he hadn't been very happy, yoi." At their questioning looks, he continued heavily, "He was playing on the railings. Balancing on them until I pulled him back on deck."

" _What_?"

"Is he mad?"

"What if he fell asleep?"

"Wait, wait," Rakuyo said. "You mean, on the railings that overlooks the sea?"

A flat stare from the first commander answered his question and the room fell once again into hushed silence.

Izo mentally slapped himself. Of course the kid would get into trouble. See? This was why he suggested teaching the kid a thing or two so he could help out, but no, the others wanted to baby him so he could enjoy life a little more.

"I'm going to check the waters, just in case," Namur muttered. "I'll get some of my division members to help out. Let me know if you have any updates."

Marco nodded in thanks. "Anyone has any news?"

The fourth commander waved at him, his expression grim. "He came to me this morning," he said seriously. "Wanted to head over to the nearest town. I said no. He promised he wouldn't go after that."

The first commander's form, which had gone rigid, relaxed. His lips parted. "Fine, yoi. Anyone else?"

"Wait, we aren't going to check the islands?" Curiel asked.

Marco waved his concerns away. "Ace promised," he said dismissively. "He won't go back on his word, yoi."

There was a momentary pause. Some of the commanders looked ready to argue but a stern glare from the blonde kept the silence.

"The rest of you check the ship. The kitchens, the mess hall, even your rooms. If any of you catch him doing nothing out of the ordinary, yoi, then just let him be. Otherwise, bring him to me," the first commander ordered.

…

"Oh, and before you go, please take care not to let him find out why we're searching for him in the first place, yoi. Update to me in an hour."

* * *

Ace hummed under his breath. He tapped the tip of his quill on his desk.

 _Dear Luffy,_

 _How are you doing, dear little brother of mine?_

 _Did that scare you a little? I hope it did. I swear being around these morons are making me a baby. Pretty much like you, really. On that note, I have so much to tell you._

 _I know, I know. I should have told you ages ago, and I hope you're not too worried when the Spades just disappeared from the news months ago. Then again, it's not like we make the news all that often and I know you know I'm strong so you're probably not worried anyway. BUT, on the off chance you ARE worried, please go dunk your head in cold water right now. And do it under someone's supervision. Makino-san, or even Dadan. Don't choose that old man, okay. He'd probably let you drown while he laughed till it's too late. But, seriously, I'm your big brother. I promised I wouldn't leave you, so I don't want to hear about you being unnecessarily worried. That's my job._

 _That's right, little bro. You're stuck with me forever._

 _Okay, back to the topic, I'm not sure if this would come as a surprise but, well, I'm no longer captaining my own crew. Now, don't freak out, okay? I'm fine. I'm actually a member of the Whitebeard Pirates. Knowing you, you wouldn't know who they are. Just know they are one of the strongest crews over here and my Captain – Whitebeard – considers everyone family. Even me. He calls me his son, you know? And I, well, I sort of like it._

 _ANYWAY, before you throw this letter away cause goodness knows your attention span is a wide as my toe, don't worry about my crew either. They joined the Whitebeards too. So we're all together and happy._

 _That's right. Happy. I'm sorry I broke my promise to both you and Sabo somewhat. I promised to be free, and somehow the three of us had this idea that being free entailed being the captain of our own crews. While I'm no longer captain, I can honestly tell you I do feel free, Luffy. Sure I can't do whatever I want, but I trust that my crew mates have my best interests at heart. And if they happen to do it wrongly, I should think I'm enough to set them straight. Nothing like a good fight among nakama, right?_

 _In any case, I hope you're doing well. I trust you are training hard and not getting too beat up by Grandpa. (By the way, next time you see him, tell him my captain hopes for another visit from him, okay? I'll tell you more about that another time.)_

 _I know I've already told you, but this place, the Grand Line, Paradise, New World and absolutely EVERYTHING here is wonderful. There are so many adventures just waiting for us to find them and I can't wait for you to experience that too. I wish I could be part of your journey, Luffy, and you a part of mine. I really do. But our dreams have put us on different paths and that's that._

 _Just know that you will forever be my brother first before anything and anyone else. Train hard, and I eagerly await the day I meet you on the seas._

 _With much love (that's right, you grinning maniac, my crew members are HUGE sentimental idiots),_

 _Your older brother, Ace_

 _P.S. Hope you like the dial attached. Press the button on the side. It's a song I learnt back on this island called Little Garden or something._

Ace paused and took a moment to re-read the script. There. Knowing Luffy, he'd probably get bored about halfway through, but he'd read it till the end, he was sure. It was from his older brother, after all.

He carefully folded the letter and sealed it in an envelope. He'd send it out the next morning when the mail came in.

Hmmm. What was next? A nap? Or maybe he should get some food?

* * *

"Did you find him?"

"No. He's not in the training facilities and his Striker was left untouched."

A disapproving grunt. "You checked on his mini-boat?"

"What? Maybe he was fiddling around with it. Doesn't hurt to check."

"Ugh. That kid. Doesn't know how to keep out of trouble and spare us a freaking heart attack!"

"I'll go check his room."

"You mean you haven't checked yet?!"

…

"Like you have either."

* * *

Ace froze, a piece of bread clutched tightly in his arms at the sound of running feet. Damn, did they find out? Thatch did say to ask first before he took some food.

Not that there was anyone in the kitchens for him to ask, and finding any of the chefs was too much of a chore. The footsteps grew louder before it began to fade. Huh. They must have been turning around the corner. Jamming the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, Ace began to laden his arm with food.

He shoved away the idea of finding out just what had the others running all over the ship like this. They were probably training and he had lunch to catch up to.

Thatch really was right. He was beginning to appreciate these moments for himself. Goodness knows how busy he would have been when everyone wanted his time.

And next on the list? A long nap.

* * *

"He's not in his room either!"

"Where could he be? We're on a freaking ship!"

"Get Namur, yoi. Vista, get the navigators to stop the ship."

…

"Should we tell Oyaji?"

…

"Not yet, yoi."

* * *

Ace patted his stomach with a sigh. Oh, the Whitebeards really had the best cooks. Too bad for Luffy too, really, 'cause who could top _that_?

He dragged himself to his bed and flopped onto the mattress. Proceeding to drag the blanket over himself (because this was a proper, proper sleep!), he shoved the voice in his head that chattered at him to get back up and train). He groaned to himself as he felt the similar tugging of sleep at the edges of his mind.

It had been way too long since he well and truly rested.

* * *

"The kitchens, yoi?"

"Checked."

"The navigators' room? The figurehead? All the hiding places we know of, yoi?"

"All checked."

A curse. "Damn it."

Thatch. "Dinner time's long past. We have to tell Oyaji."

"I know, yoi. Thatch, you come with me. We'll give his room one last check before we go to Oyaji."

"You got it."

* * *

Thatch glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye. He noted the clenched fists and the frown that threatened to add more wrinkles than a man Marco's age should have. His own eyebrows furrowed.

Honestly, where did that kid go? How far could you end up on a ship, albeit a large one?

And somehow, Thatch couldn't help but feel a slight, very slight tendril of pity for his blonde brother. The man already worried about thrice as much as the rest of them, and everyone knew he had a soft spot for their newest brother.

"We're here, yoi," Marco announced unnecessarily.

Thatch hastened forward before the other could open the door and he pushed open the wooden appendage, silently hoping Ace was inside and possibly doing anything except _not be inside_.

The room inside was dark. The windows were closed off by simple wooden blinds, and what little light were allowed into the room turned into tiny slits of dim brightness that did little to lighten up the room. Pieces of scattered paper littered the desk to the side, and a pen nearly rolls off the desk when the ship swayed to what must have been a particularly big wave.

However, what caught both pirates' attention was the figure innocently curled up on his bed. Marco expelled a sigh next to him, this time of relief, as he moved forward to kneel next to the bed.

Thatch didn't move, instead choosing to allow his two brothers some time with each other, regardless that one was currently unconscious and in his dreams.

"You little brat," he heard Marco whisper. "You've been here all this time, yoi."

The blonde lifted a hand and gently brushed it against the wisps of dark hair that peeked from under the blankets. Light breathing answered him. Ace stirred for a moment, moving to further bury himself under his blankets until only the tips of his eyelashes and hair was uncovered. Marco frowned at this, as if unhappy with the development.

Thatch chose this moment to speak up. "See?" he whispered. "He's fine."

The first commander ignored him in favour of pressing a palm against the kid's forehead. "Should we take him to the infirmary, yoi?" he wondered out loud. "He's a little warm."

The chef mimicked his actions. "Nah, I just think it's his devil fruit acting up. He usually is warmer than most people."

"He missed dinner _and_ lunch," Marco pointed out.

That was a valid point. Ace never missed his meals.

"So what? You're suggesting we wake him and then take him to the infirmary? What if he's not sick? You know how he gets when we treat him like a kid."

"He _is_ a kid, yoi," the blonde grumbled under his breath. A pair of blue eyes closed in mild frustration. Thatch gave him a moment, knowing it was simply the result of a nearly an entire day of pent up stress.

"We should just leave," the chef suggested after a moment. "He'll wake up when he's hungry."

Marco shot the youngest pirate a long look. "I'm surprised he didn't wake up earlier."

Before either commander could decide, the object of their concerns stirred again, though this time, grey eyes fluttered open.

* * *

Ace tried to shake the remains of his grogginess away. He felt so tired, and it felt so good.

…if not for the two hovering commanders who were staring at him with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" He moved to sit up.

Thatch recovered. "Ace," he said, his voice low. "You're awake."

And stating quite the obvious too. Ace tilted his head as he shifted his attention from one commander to the next. "What's wrong?" he repeated. His gaze swept across his room. "Why didn't you switch on the light?"

"Uh, didn't want to wake you," Thatch laughed awkwardly.

Confusion flitted across the fire-user's features before he smoothed it with an amused smile. They didn't seem to be in any urgency, so no one was in danger anyway. "Then why did you come?"

Marco answered this time. "You didn't come for dinner, yoi. You've never missed it before and we haven't seen you almost all day…" he trailed off.

The three once again fell into silence. Ace rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he was seeing things, but he could have sworn his oldest brother had looked uncertain for a minute there.

"And…" he prompted. Something began to nag at the back of his mind, incessant and slightly disturbing. They didn't think he had…

Thatch cut off his thoughts. "And, this is a little embarrassing, actually…" He laughed when Ace fixed him with a pointed look. "We kind of, well, it wasn't just you who were used to being around us, eh, Ace?" The chef moved forward to pat at messy black locks. "We sort of missed you, you see, and we didn't think you wouldn't be at dinner too, and that's a _long, looong_ time to be away from each other and-"

A sigh. "Thatch, yoi. Stop rambling."

"You…missed me?

Both commanders looked towards him, and Ace felt a tiny part of him warm like flame in snow. Both older men sported what appeared to be a flushed look on their cheeks, and if he could see himself then, he knew he had reddened too.

He coughed. "Morons," he muttered. "I was in my room almost the entire day."

Marco chuckled lightly. "We know."

A loud grumbling interrupted them and all three glanced at the source.

Ace's countenance reddened further. "Um."

"Come on, kiddo. Let's get you some dinner. See? Looks like you were hungry after all."

"Shut up! And I'm not a kid!"

…

And as the two older pirates led their youngest brother from his room, if anyone had stopped by to give the fire-user a hug, neither said anything.

And if Thatch had quickly shoved a pirate whose mouth had run away with him, neither commander said anything either. Instead, he had taken one look at Ace's confused expression and answered his unspoken question: "They were playing hide and seek. We should play sometime!"

And if Marco had silently whispered in the kid's ear an answer to his previous question, neither said anything on the subject either.

" _You…missed me?"_

And Ace would forever keep Marco's words close to his heart.

" _Of course we did."_

He supposed there were perks to being left alone after all.

Well, once in a while.

* * *

 **Ta-daa. That's it. Please let me know what you think?**


	11. When Ace feels abandoned

**Hey guys!**

 **Guess who's back! For one thing, my apologies for updating so late. I really couldn't help it. Sometimes we have to take a step back and take a little breather before we can get into full swing again.**

 **For what it's worth, thank you for returning to read this. Thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites. They do mean a lot to me, even when I'm off dealing with real life.**

 **I will update the other two fics (you know which!) but just not too soon. This chapter is really just me trying to get the feel of writing again. I'm not sure if I could roll out entire chapters like I did back then (and whoa that was a long time ago!).**

 **With that, please enjoy and let me know what you think.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: When Ace feels abandoned**

Marco was avoiding him.

The sudden realisation had come like a solid punch to the gut. He had been on the crow's nest, a loaf of bread (as well as a basketful of snacks next to his person) in his hand, his left elbow perched on top of a wooden railing as he peered into the dark of the open ocean. He remembered clearly how a cool breeze had brushed his bangs from his eyes, how he felt the urge to rub his hands together despite not feeling the cold, how much he ached at the love he felt for the people on the ship beneath him that even doing something as mundane as night watch made him want to puff up in pleasure. He was protecting his family. How could he not take pride in that?

That brief feeling of soft contentment had been quick to fade then, when his thoughts wandered off tangent and came to rest on the suddenly elusive first commander.

Despite himself, Ace couldn't blame himself for not noticing earlier.

Their ship was home to over a thousand pirates, and his own schedule could be taken up on small to larger responsibilities to keep the ship running. He wasn't that ignorant to think Marco would be any less busy. He was the first commander. Above almost everyone, he should be running ragged to fulfil his duties.

The only thing was the blonde was _that_ efficient that he hardly had to do that. He always seemed to have time to spare. Be it time to have a short chat, a full-blown conversation, a meal or even a sparring session with his family. And if he couldn't? He would without fail turn up within the next few days to make up for it with that stupid, stupid apologetic look on his face, the offer to spend the next few hours together left unspoken.

But that hadn't happened for weeks.

The blonde would still smile that small amused quirk of his lips whenever Ace sought him out, would spare him that little bit of attention before excusing himself not more than five minutes later, begging off his leave with a reason or two. Explanations that eventually turned into measly, pathetic excuses since the man never seemed too busy for any other crew member.

Ace had tried (and failed) to convince himself it was his own paranoia that fuelled his doubts. Maybe Marco was really busy with his paperwork (though the deadline for the month had only went by a few days before), or was too tired at seven in the evening to head to dinner together (despite the weeks having been peaceful with no attacks or raids to start with), or having to meet with the eighth division to discuss upgrading works in the lower wing (the section of the ship that no one had used for years). What did he, the newbie, know?

Though, maybe, the signs had rung as clear as a bell and Ace had been too far in his refusal to even begin to understand a concept where the commander would rather hide himself away than stay within proximity with him.

He had tried to be patient. He went about his business and waited and waited for the older man to clear his work so they could then catch up with each other. But then, as he tilted his head towards the East, an ugly picture began to form in his head. It was like a fog had lifted from sight and he suddenly he noticed how Marco would drift away whenever he neared, how the man was never around his usual hang out spots, how he shot Ace down with a curt _I'm busy_ when he knocked on his door.

Ace felt something inside him clench. Perhaps he had taken that attention for granted. Maybe Marco had finally seen the truth behind the younger's earlier confession – that spending so much time with him would reveal how rotten a core the raven-haired teen tried to hide inside.

He was part of the crew now, after all. It wasn't like the blonde could kick him out. So better to cut things off fast so they could maintain at least a semblance of a civil relationship, right?

…

The worst thing, though, Ace didn't even know where he had gone wrong.

* * *

Ace could see him by the side of the ship, a little ways away from the Captain's seat. The blonde was smiling in fond amusement at something some person from the third division was telling him. It must have been funny. It always took quite a bit to coax that smile – any smile – out of the older man. This titbit of knowledge about the man was something the teen held close to himself. He was certain most everyone already knew it, but even so…

Part of him wanted to come up to them and maybe say hello. They were family, after all. It didn't look like he would be interrupting some kind of private talk from the way humour lit up their (or just the one guy) gestures. Yet, the other part feared having his theory confirmed. Not that it could be helped. Ace had to walk past them to get to his room and he was close to exhaustion from the day's activities.

Keeping his head down, he started what appeared to suddenly be a whole mile trek across the deck. He hunched into himself when their voices began to carry over to his reluctantly approaching form.

"…more careful, yoi. It's funny now, but it wouldn't have been had things ended differently."

Raucous laughter. "Got that, commander. Don't start nagging now. Aren't you supposed to be busy?"

A snort. "All of you. Always trying to chase me away when it's convenient, yoi. And, no. I should be expected to sleep at this hour, not to work."

"Well, you _are_ the first commander…"

Blue eyes slid over to Ace and the younger fire-user nearly froze in his tracks. The hope that he tried to clamp down were dashed when the commander merely nodded at him before quickly begging off his conversation with his then companion. His departure was so swift even the third division member looked concerned.

When he turned to Ace in askance, it took a lot of the teen's control to shrug the incident off, as if he had no idea why the man had had to leave so suddenly.

"Huh. He must have remembered he had something to do."

The younger pirate forced a laugh. It must have sounded too strained from the other man's frown. Ace didn't care though. He was too busy trying to calm the part of him that felt like crying. "I guess so. I'll be seeing you around then."

He fled into the direction of his room.

* * *

Ace didn't look up when a loud scrape of wood against wood added to the noise that was breakfast on the Moby Dick. Eyes firmly fixed on his food, he went on the routine process of chew-swallow-chew-swallow-drink-chew-swallow.

"Ace?"

The fire-user grunted.

"Ace..?"

There was a brief pause before a hand darted out and pulled his plate from his line of sight. His gaze followed the movement to see Thatch frowning at him. "What?" he snapped.

The chef's frown deepened before it was expertly replaced with a mild grin. "Aren't you a ray of sunshine this morning?" he remarked as he unloaded three large muffins onto the plate he had just stolen. He squirted a lump of cream on the side before sliding it back. "Someone pissed you off?"

Ace muttered a curt _thanks_ for the food. Opting not to answer, he stabbed the cake with his fork, aware of the pair of eyes that followed his every move. He should smile, he knew. Pretend that everything was all right with the world even when he wanted nothing more than to demand answers from the stupid resident phoenix, or maybe just return to his room and wallow all day.

It's okay, he tried to tell himself. He intended to head straight to his room right after breakfast, so all he had to do was eat, get up, and _leave_.

And, above all, Thatch didn't deserve anything but the best. A thought occurred to him then and he sat up in alarm. What if Thatch decided he didn't like him either and refused anything to do with him too?

A warm hand encircled his clenched fist. "Ace, are you okay?"

The fire-user raised his head to meet chocolate brown eyes. His lips parted, but the ensuing silence must have gone on for too long for the chef's features turned sober. And his eyes. Thatch's biggest tells had always been his eyes.

"What's wrong?" His grip tightened.

Ace drew back. "I'm just-" He cut himself off. He shouldn't. Thatch was Marco's best friend, brother, confidante. He _couldn't_. If Marco was told, he would probably feel some form of sick obligation to pay attention to him and...or maybe explain himself? The teen mentally shook his thoughts away. No. All he needed was a good rest. That's why he's feeling so low. He forced a smile. "It's nothing, Thatch," he said simply. "I was up all night for night watch. I'm just really not in the mood to talk or anything like that."

Besides, he had to be stronger than this. Thatch never liked it when his crew members weren't their best.

The brunette gave him a measured look and the younger had the oddest feeling that he didn't believe him. "I see." He returned the smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Just don't forget I'm here if you need anything, alright, kid?"

The teen's lips twitched at the label but decided to let it go. "Thank you, Thatch. I…I really appreciate that." He pushed his chair back. "You can let go of my hand now."

Thatch ignored the request. "You didn't finish your food," he said.

A sharp jolt ran through the younger pirate. His eyes fell on the remains of his muffins and he felt himself freeze. Damn it. This was Thatch. Thatch _hated_ food wastage. And Ace not finishing his meals only reminded him that the younger had once starved so badly under his care. Before he could finish panicking, a sigh invaded his thoughts and the warmth on his hand disappeared. It was replaced with a chill that left him feeling somewhat hollow and bereft.

"It's alright, Ace." The commander was looking at him, his smile stiff and his gaze hard. "You're tired. I'll make sure your lunch makes up for this."

The fire-user felt himself shrink. His shoulders slumped. "Alright," he mumbled. Thank you for the meal." He turned to move away and he paused. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience." Not wanting to stay a minute more under the heavy scrutiny, the pirate rose from the bow and fled the mess hall.

The last thing he saw before the doors closed behind him were of Marco and Thatch. The blonde was standing behind the chef, a plate in his hand. On his left palm, though, was an uneaten muffin. Both were staring at him, their gazes hard and assessing.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Thatch turned to look at his brother for help, only to be smacked on his face with the end of a metal plate. "What the hell was _that_ for?! And how in the hell did you not drop anything!"

Marco gave him a dirty look. He appeared to consider bopping him on the head again but thought the better of it. Instead, he set his food on the table before leaning back to fold his arms and glare at the fourth commander.

Thatch scowled. "I didn't do anything!"

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "So why did he run, yoi?"

The chef's frown returned and he quickly gestured his brother to sit. Worry gnawed at his inside even as the other pirate complied, his thoughts running a mile a second, wondering at the reasons behind Ace's odd behaviour. "I don't know," he said as he leaned in towards Marco. "I noticed he was in a foul mood and thought nothing of it. You know how he gets sometimes. Usually company would chase those moods away, or if we promise to help kick whoever's butt decided to piss him off." He paused, as if trying to find the right words to say. "I asked him if there's anything wrong and he just, fell silent. Didn't answer. Didn't finish his food – and that's a terrible miracle I never want to see again – and then fled after going all pale and apologetic."

Marco regarded him for a moment. "And this is the first time he's shown such behaviour?"

"That I know of." Thatch sat up straight. "You don't think it's because you-"

The blonde waved it off. "Can't be, yoi. It's been going on weeks and he never showed any signs it bothered him."

Thatch slumped in his seat. "Guess that's good though. It would have been tough trying to weather _that_ storm." He tapped his fingers on edge of the table. "Maybe you should try…?" he trailed off.

The answer was instantaneous. "And undo everything that's been done the past few weeks?" Marco shook his head. "He may not appear troubled because of it, yoi, but we don't know for sure. We shouldn't risk it."

"If that's how you feel. He's always liked you best."

The blonde commander leaned back and turned to his food. His eyes were shadowed. "And that's the problem, isn't it?"

* * *

He didn't need them.

He didn't need their attention. _His_ attention.

He didn't need it.

Yes, he wanted it. Almost desperately, but- darn the damn seas, he really, really missed having someone to talk to.

He missed having that warmth against his side, those amused smiles, that twinkle in blue, blue eyes, and-and, he missed _Marco_.

Ace didn't know where he went wrong. Didn't know what it was about him that convinced the man he wasn't worth being around. To even pretend he was okay to be around.

And now, and now Ace was afraid he'd turn everyone else away too.

* * *

"What do you need me to do?"

Vista shot him an odd look. "What do you mean?"

Ace's features were unreadable. His stormy grey eyes were piercing. "You called for me," he said simply, as if that answered everything.

The commander nodded. "That I did." He pulled at his moustache. "Are you busy then? It's alright if you are. I have things to do settle with my division, so I guess we can push it to another time, eh, Fire Fist?"

The fire-user assumed a strange look, before wiping it clean before Vista could ponder on it further. "I got it. I'll leave you to it then." He moved to turn away, but not before he looked back, the corners of his lips curled downwards almost unhappily. "If you need anything…"

Ah. He must be displeased that their catch-up session was disrupted. Vista felt a tendril of warmth at the thought. "I will look for you if I need you," he promised. That way, both could clear their schedules faster and make more time to spend with each other. Goodness knows how many brothers and sisters he had yet to catch up with.

Ace only nodded before he left.

* * *

Ace never realised how much time he spent with Marco till the latter wasn't there to fill the gap.

He had so much more free time he didn't quite know what to do with it. Other than trying to stop himself from wallowing in the dumps, that is.

It was silly, he knew, to be so hung up on one man. But, they were supposed to be brothers, weren't they? If Luffy had shunned him for even a day…he shuddered at the thought. That would have admittedly been worse. Luffy was his sunlight. He'd give up _anything_ for that kid, and if the rubber boy who loved him despite everything decided he wasn't worth it anymore, Ace didn't think he could survive that. Or if he even wanted to.

And though Marco was still far from what Luffy meant to him, he still held a significant part of Ace's trust and care. Ace held so few beings close to his heart and somehow the stoic man had taken firm hold and left his talons all over.

The raven-haired teenager pressed his cheek against the wooden floorboard. His body lay sprawled on the floor. " _If only you saw me as I am_ ," he sang softly, tunelessly to the empty room. " _If only you saw me, only me, no lies, no disguise…_ "

He had gotten too used to the attention, he supposed. Too used to them fussing over him like a child, as if his every hurt was an attack against them, as if there was nothing more natural than to shower each other with endless affection. And to not bother to hide it.

So Ace had become greedy.

Though his insides ached painfully at the thought, it would be the better alternative if they had simply gotten over the novelty of a new youngest brother. So Marco had had his fill. The others would follow too. That meant he was simply letting their feelings run its course, right? They weren't…abandoning him. They were only returning to how life should have been, only now with another family- crew member that they have accustomed themselves to.

That meant he wasn't chasing them away.

" _If you saw me from the start, and knew what I held inside_ …"

Even if he wasn't, Ace had grown far too used and comfortable with Marco. If the man was bored of him, where would that leave him? He was part of the Whitebeards now. This was his crew, the one he was to sail with for the rest of time. He still had Thatch, Izo, the Captain and some others. But, for how long?

He couldn't bear the idea of living life feeling this terribly alone. The thought pounded a deeper, heavier ache into his chest.

There wasn't even anyone to seek advice from.

" _Would you slip away?_ "

* * *

"And there they go again," Vista remarked as Ace slammed his knee at Haruta's midsection and sent him flying across the deck. A yelp accompanied the commander as he crashed into a pile of crates.

Rakuyo shrugged. "He's still holding back though."

The other commanders silently agreed. It had become too clear over the recent months that most of their crew stood no chance when faced with Ace's unwavering determination to win and tendency to be as unpredictable as the weather in the Grand Line. The only ones who could keep going at him were a select few, the commanders and their Captain. From that, only most of the commanders and the Captain could take him down.

"We underestimated him," Izo commented. When the others glanced at him curiously, he elaborated, "He spent a hundred days trying to take Oyaji's head. He didn't rest, refused any medical attention except the one we forced him to go through, he _clearly_ didn't eat enough." His shoulders rose and fell with a grace that most would envy. "Two plus two. We forgot how formidable he could be."

The pirates returned to watching over the sparring session. Apart from the occasional shout and the repeated clashes, only the gentle bob of the Moby Dick and the soft breeze made up for the silence that would have otherwise fallen over them like a shroud. It was a quiet day.

Once again, Ace sneaked in to send the twelfth commander skidding past their spectators. One of Haruta's swords was wrenched from his grip as he flailed and fell with a loud clang near Marco's foot. As one, the commanders glanced up to study the fire-user closely and, true to their suspicions, instead of the triumphant smirk, the kid worried a concerned look as he quickly made his way towards the fallen brunette.

Before he could though, Haruta sprang up and shook his head. "Whoa. That was one hell of a battle, Ace." He grinned up at the teen. "I can't believe no one trained you!"

Ace immediately flushed. "I, uh, well, that's not really true."

"You mean someone trained you?"

Thatch gasped. "You never told us that!"

The freckled pirate looked between them and raised an eyebrow. He scratched the back of his neck. "Grandpa did, I guess. When he visited us back home, he'd hold these training sessions which really just consisted of him treating us to his Fist of," – here, he created two apostrophes with his fingers – "Love." The audience collectively winced.

"It's no wonder you have such brute strength then," the chef joked.

Ace's lips twitched. "He only came by a few times a year and he never stayed long anyway." He walked over, grabbed the sword and passed it to Haruta, who mumbled out a 'thanks'. "Are you okay?" He bit his bottom lip. "I didn't…hurt you, did I?"

Haruta snorted. "I was knocked down, not knocked _out_ ," he said. "Come on! Let's go again!"

The fire-user ran a hand through his tresses of jet black hair. His gaze swept through the audience that their fight had collected. If he was surprised at the crowd, he didn't show it, though his eyes rested on one blonde commander for a second longer before he turned back to Haruta. He shrugged. "Sure."

A spark lit up the twelfth commander's eyes. "Hold it. You know what we've never seen before?" he asked as a look of mischief crossed his face. "You and Marco! You've never sparred each other before!"

Ace stiffened. "Of course we have," he said.

Haruta looked almost betrayed. "What?" he demanded. "When was this?!"

The other commanders and pirates turned to look at Marco. The blonde lifted an eyebrow coolly before turning to Ace. "I don't think we actually have, yoi," he said mildly.

Ace's countenance went blank. "It was before I joined you guys."

When the teen didn't deign to elaborate, the first commander's features twisted into a frown. "I would have remembered if we had sparred-"

"Fought," Ace cut in. "We fought when I launched one of my night attacks. It didn't last long. There was no one else on deck."

Marco paused. "I see," he said.

"So are you going to spar or not?" Vista asked, impatient. He waved at the increasingly noisy crowd. "We haven't had a decent show in months."

Haruta squawked in indignance. "Are you saying our sparring was too boring for you?"

Many of the commanders shared an amused look. "Not as spectacular as a fight between fire and fire, I believe," Izo interjected, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And you know it would be spectacular. You were the one to bring it up in the first place."

The twelfth commander glared at them suspiciously before seeming to decide it wasn't worth the effort to pursue the issue when the promise of a fight between Marco and Ace stood bare on their doorstep. "Fine," he said, trying (and failing) to mask his newfound excitement. "Marco? Ace? Fight? Now?"

The first commander quirked a small smile. "I don't th-"

"Me neither." The two words, said quietly and solemn, cut into the light atmosphere as most fell silent to stare in askance at Ace, who flushed under their attention. It didn't, though, change the blank look on his countenance. His hand reached back to sneak his cowboy hat to rest on his head and he tugged the brim lower till part of his eyes were shadowed from the Sun's glare. "I don't think it'd be a good idea either," he repeated, his tone flat.

Haruta scratched at his head. He glanced at the other commanders in discomfort when no one said anything. For his part, Marco retained his calm expression, his eyes fixed on the teen.

"Uh, I guess if you don't feel like it," Haruta laughed awkwardly. "Do you…want to continue sparring with me then?"

Ace seemed to have to take a deep breath. "No," he said, dragging the word out. "It's been a long day. I hope you understand." He bowed his head towards the general direction of the commanders before nodding to various other crew members as he turned to leave. "If you'll excuse me."

The usual brand of noise started up as the commanders watched the fire-user's retreating back.

"What was that all about?" Namur spoke up.

Vista squinted at their oldest brother. "Did you argue with him again?"

Marco's eyebrow twitched. "We haven't really spoken in a while, yoi," he said smoothly. "I would remember if we had argued."

Rakuyo. "Huh. Then I wish whoever pissed him off good luck. He seemed ready to throw someone off deck for a bit there."

Izo frowned. "I don't think so. He seemed a little pale to me." His gaze slid to watch Marco carefully. "I do wonder."

"What?" Thatch piped up at that remark. "What do you wonder?"

The kimono-clad pirate waved him off. "Oh, nothing. I just remembered he hasn't been eating well, that's all."

As expected, the chef's eyes widened considerably and everyone knew then that their youngest would be under heavy observation for next while.

* * *

Ace slunk back to his room. He barely kept the scowl off his face, and goodness knows it was a miracle he managed to hold back from burning the walkway behind him.

He was right. It wasn't his fears that pushed him to think Marco was avoiding him. Truth was, the man _was_ avoiding him. That brief interaction they had earlier all but confirmed it. Ace didn't think he'd ever forget the way the blonde had hesitated when asked to spar with him. The way he had avoided looking him in the eye. The way he sought the other commanders as if he needed _help_ to get away from the terrible, terrible Ace.

…

"Damn it!"

He glared at the passing crew members who shot him weirded out looks. They were quick to scamper out of his way, but even that did little to lighten his mood. He scared his own family away with a single look. What the hell was there to be proud of?

Once in his room, his fingers were quick to latch the door shut with a _click_. The lock did little to prevent any unwanted intruders but it at least gave the illusion of comfort that he desperately craved for. As if he could really block out everything beyond the door if he so desired.

"Stupid, _stupid_ _Phoenix_ ," he cursed under his breath. He paced around the room, his feet pressing hard onto the ground until he was all-out stomping.

He was _done_ being all mopey and sad. So Marco didn't want to be near him anymore. Well, it's too bad for him! Ace was part of the crew now so he might as well suck it up like the mature older _brother_ \- he inwardly sneered – everyone practically worshipped him to be. But no, he had to go and leave his mark on him and then leave without even explaining what the hell he had done wrong.

Ace knew he wasn't perfect. He was so far from it he almost refused to become one of the Whitebeards. Even so, he sure as hell wasn't going to live with regrets. No one – not even Whitebeard, much less that stupid bird – was going to make him break it.

So Marco didn't like him? Fine.

Ace was going to make sure he earned his place on the crew.

* * *

The change had been gradual. Yet, it would have been a lie if any of the Whitebeard crew didn't admit to feeling some form of unease at the sudden shift in behaviour in Ace. It didn't help that there seemed to be little leeway into getting the kid to confess just what had him…not turning the Moby Dick upside down.

The teen was on his very best behaviour, after all.

He no longer talked back, for starters (unless it was to Marco). Worse, he was painfully polite for most conversations that he held with them. _Thank you. I appreciate that. I hope you will feel better soon. Do have a good rest._ If Ace's hidden intentions were to raise their goosebumps, he was doing a fine job of it.

It didn't stop there.

He never said no when requested to carry out a task, even if it meant having to stay up a full 24 hours to get everything done. The crew vividly remembered how the kid had been asked by various people to clean the deck, help out in the kitchens, go on night watch and other odd jobs and opted to not tell them he was already booked for the day. No, the part they did remember most clearly was the moment Marco found out. The man had been furious.

 _Frustrated. "Ace, why didn't you just say no, yoi?"_

 _Flat. Monotonous. "They asked it of me. I could do it. What's your problem?"_

" _And if they asked you to jump into the sea, would you do it? Knowing it would kill you?"_

 _A dark gleam. "Then I would trust they had a good reason to do it. Why, Marco? Are you saying the crew would let me drown if I did?"_

 _A sharp inhale. "I don't know what's gotten into you, Ace. But what you did was unnecessary, yoi. You-"_

" _I finished everything on time! What the hell is your problem?"_

" _You look like you could keel over any second- that's my problem!"_

" _And if you'd let me go, I could sleep it the fuck off and solve your fucking problem. But hey, it's not like you care about that, do you?"_

It had taken Izo and a displeased Captain to solve the escalating row. Whitebeard had had to meet with each of them individually to sort whatever problem Ace seemed to have with the first mate, though the meeting did little but to fan the flames (figuratively) the teen was clearly struggling to hide.

Besides that, it seemed as if their youngest brother had taken it upon himself to beat himself into the ground. He had never been shy to take up anyone on sparring. They wouldn't be surprised if he'd take on their Captain just for the fun of it, even if it meant him getting tossed around like he had been before he joined their ranks. Recently, though, there was a definite change in how he fought. He threw himself into every battle as if it would be his last, his attacks turning harsher and more desperate the longer the fight wore on.

He fought as if he had something to prove. It came to a point where the commanders intervened and only allowed him to train with a fellow crew member (read: commander) once a day.

Whatever plagued the teenager, though, remained a mystery. Marco, for good reason, stayed away. But even the other commanders began to steer clear when it became apparent Ace wasn't going to tolerate their hovering.

* * *

"You haven't fixed it yet, yoi. It's been weeks – almost a month – and he's still in that mood of his."

The other commanders flinched under his accusing stare.

"We _are_ trying, Marco," Izo said. His arms were folded beneath the layers of silk. It made him look almost regal and it only added to the weight of his words. "For some reason, we just can't reach him."

Marco narrowed his eyes. "Exactly. You're pushing him away. Undoing nearly everything we've done to welcome him to the family, yoi." His right hand raised as if to run it roughly through his hair, only to fall a moment later. "We don't even know what's gotten into him."

"Don't you have any other advice for us?" Namur asked. "You know him the best."

" _Knew_ ," the blond corrected, a bitter note in his voice. "He won't even stand the sight of me now."

Thatch heaved a sigh. "Maybe we should give this act up," he said solemnly. He raised his hands when several pairs of eyes locked on him. From the general lack of surprise, though, he supposed they must have already been thinking of it. Still, he decided to play it safe. "Now, don't get mad. But all of this has done nothing but made him seriously pissed off with Marco. That's not acceptable. If the repercussions aren't worth it, maybe it's not worth dragging it out for the sake of trying to make it work."

Curiel frowned. "We don't even know if this whole Marco staying away from him is the cause of all his anger," he argued.

"True," Thatch agreed easily. "To be clear, though, we don't know if he's even mad. We just know something is bothering him and maybe he's channelling his frustrations onto Marco, the person he would have confided into had he been…available." At this, the first commander muttered something under his breath, but the chef chose to plough on. "Secondly, isn't it a little too coincidental? That he refuses to be around Marco- basically treating Marco almost the exact same way Marco's been treating him all these weeks? Of course, with an extra topping of hostility and swearing." He smiled wearily. "If this goes on for too long, I don't think the fall out is something we can walk away from completely."

There was a heavy pause.

"So what are you suggesting?" Vista finally asked. "That we send Marco to fix this? That would return us to our first problem."

"I think Thatch's right," Izo threw in. "Even that problem is better than this."

Rakuyo shook his head. "There has to be another way. We all agreed that Ace has been far too reliant on Marco. He needs to know he has an entire family behind him and not just stick by a few of us. Allowing that to go on would encourage him to further create that line of distinction between crew member and _family_. We can't have that."

"And that's been a great idea so far?" Marco snapped. "Now he's working to be reliant on no one, yoi!"

The other commanders exchanged uneasy glances.

"Look, Marco," Izo said, affecting a soothing tone. "We know you were against this from the very beginning. And you've done very well in subtly avoiding him. We _are_ sorry it came to this, but fact is, maybe we made a mistake. We should have done something else to fix it. But," – at this, he reached to touch the Phoenix lightly on his arm – "don't you think you're too invested in this?"

The blond froze at this words. "What do you mean, yoi?"

The sixteenth commander didn't waver. "Ace is…our youngest," he said carefully. "I know that makes him, in essence, special. But he is still just another member of the crew. His personality and everything about him is refreshing and we love being around him. Even so, we are the commanders, Marco. Of hundreds of brothers and sisters. It's not right for any of us to spend our time with any one member of the crew too much."

"Hey, that's a little harsh, don't you think?" Namur interrupted. "It wasn't just him who spent a lot of time with Ace."

"Yeah," Vista agreed. "The kid's pretty strong too. Marco's the one in charge of second division. It's only right he watches over the kid and guides him properly in his training and character."

Though the kimono-clad pirate appeared pleased at the defence, he only smiled regretfully when Marco stared wide-eyed at him, realisation having swept across his features.

"This…plan, yoi," he said slowly. "It wasn't just to keep Ace from relying on me, was it?"

"No," Izo answered. "You were getting a little too overprotective over him. He was getting too used to it. You were at risk of not remaining objective when it came to him."

The blond paused. "Who else knew?"

To no one's surprise, the fourth commander raised his hand. "I did. Izo didn't tell me," he said quickly. "I just thought this plan would solve your feelings of attachment as a side-effect. It was never an objective of the plan."

Marco remained silent. His gaze dropped to the floor, heavy in the silence. "It's the fire, yoi," he said after a long moment. Without looking up, he continued, "Something about his fire calls out to mine. It…makes me feel alive, so to speak. More alive, yoi. I've never felt anything like it, but then I've never met a fire logia before either."

Izo frowned at him, appearing almost thoughtful. "I'm sorry to ask this here, but we should know. Is it romantic?"

The Phoenix's features twisted into something awful. "No!" he nearly squawked. "No, yoi," he said again, albeit softer, wincing at the outburst. "It's not like that. My fire tells me there's a connection between us. It's how I knew he'd become our brother when I first saw him. It was like a part of me had come home, yoi." He sighed. "It sounds silly, I know. But-"

The kimono-clad pirate shushed him. A strange light gleamed in his eyes. "It's not silly, you idiot," he said gently. "We understand."

Marco shot him a grateful look when Thatch spoke up, voice loud and exasperated.

"Great. So we've done nothing but made two of our brothers feel lonely and sad? So now what do we do?"

Izo rolled his eyes. "Ditch the plan?"

Fossa groaned into his hands. "Ace is going to kill us."

Izo arched an elegant eyebrow at his words. "You aren't scared of him, are you?"

Thatch snorted. "Come on! When he's pissed off, you just have to add tiny cute horns to his head, a tail and a red scythe and you have the devil coming for you. And he can spontaneously burst into flames!" At their silence, he waved his arms wildly. "Surely you see it!" he complained.

Marco gave him a dirty look. "What about me, yoi? I'm the one he's really mad at."

Haruta piped up, "Better you than us. You're the first commander. You should do that thing that you're supposed to do. Protect us and all that."

The blonde sighed. "Lucky me," he said dryly. None of the commanders commented on the way his eyes lit up.

"So…ditch the plan?"

"Ditch the plan."

* * *

Whitebeard leaned forward and peered at his youngest child. His aged features were drawn into a frown. "You want to be on that mission?"

Ace nodded, firm. "I heard the others speaking of it and it's something I can do."

The Captain regarded him with a thoughtful stare. "Alright," he said after a moment. "If that's what you want. I will get Marco to assemble a…" He stopped when the younger pirate shook his head.

"I can do this on my own," he said earnestly. Part of him felt a little downtrodden that he had to convince his Captain he could handle going after some troublemakers at one of their protected islands. Before when he was still the Spades Captain, he never had to second-guess his strength. Looking back, he had been arrogant, but at least no one had doubted in his abilities then. "I have the Striker. I could be there within a day and solve all this before they get into their heads to blow it up."

"There is no reason for you to have to do it alone, Ace," Whitebeard said gently.

Ace stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "I know. Doesn't mean I can't and shouldn't," he pointed out. "I know I'm just a rookie but I was a Captain once too. I can do this."

The older pirate allowed a pregnant pause to rest heavy between the two of them. To his credit, the D-carrier didn't blink, his chin tilted in defiance and eyes bright with determination.

Whitebeard finally nodded. "Alright," he said again. "If that's what you want."

* * *

Marco had to admit he was nervous. And perhaps a little bit wary of how Ace would take to his apology. All of them had agreed it would best to just come clean with the younger fire-user and he approved. There shouldn't be lies between family. He only hoped the fall out wouldn't last too long.

Nodding at passing siblings as he went down the hallway, the zoan pirate strove to calm the blue flames that ached to be let free. Everything would be fine, he knew, but he wasn't so optimistic to think that Ace wouldn't hold it against him somehow.

As he neared their youngest' door, he felt his body go tense. _Calm down_ , he told himself. _He won't kill you._

A few weeks ago, and the kid would have laughed at his nerves.

He stopped outside the closed door, simple and bare, a sharp contrast to the powerful fire-wielder it hid inside. His insides did a somersault. Without allowing himself to draw it out, he raised his hand and knocked sharply.

Footsteps sounded from the other side of the door and all too soon it opened to reveal the source of a large part of his recent worries. Surprise flitted across the younger's features before a guarded look took its place. To the Phoenix's disappointment, Ace didn't offer him to come in as he would have done weeks ago.

"Marco. Do you need something?" he asked when the older didn't say anything.

The blonde let out a breath. "We should talk, yoi," he finally said. There was no better way to say it. He kept his gaze locked on the other's, inwardly willing the teen to be more forgiving today.

Ace narrowed his eyes. "About what?"

"About us. I know things have been different with us lately, and if you would hear me out-"

"So you admit it then?"

"What?"

"You admit it," Ace said in a low voice. "You admit you've been avoiding me."

Marco hesitated, then cursed himself for that moment of weakness when hurt flashed across the younger's face, only to darken in anger not a second later. "Ace-"

"No." The kid drew back from him. His boyish features twisted into a scowl. "I'm busy. I'll talk to you when I talk you." He moved to close the door but the Phoenix was quick to slap a hand against the wooden appendage.

"Ace, yoi. I'm sorry, but you don't understand. At least hear me out and then you can decide to throw me overboard if you still want to."

Ace scoffed at him. "Yeah, 'cause everyone else would let me do that in the first place." He pushed at the door. "Move."

The commander took a deep breath, then another. "Ace, yoi," he pleaded softly. "Hear me out."

For the first time, Marco missed it when the teenager would keep to himself while someone else spoke. He would always wait for others to finish their piece before he even considered voicing his own opinion. The commanders – no, _he_ – had really hated the way the kid held back.

Ace grabbed his arm and shoved it off his door, a snarl on his lips. "How does it feel, Marco?" he shouted. "How does it feel to be turned away like you're some desperate, _pathetic_ moron who can't catch his time of day!" His cheeks flushed a deep red in fury as he shoved the older man until he stumbled back.

"We had our reasons for-"

"Shut up! You-" The teen stopped. His eyes widened. "What do you mean by _we_?"

Marco felt himself pale. "If you hear me out, yoi, you'd understand," he said almost frantically. "It's not what you think. Please, just hear me out."

Ace shook his head, his lips parting before closing again, as if unsure what to say next. "You and the commanders? All of you?" he whispered in disbelief. Hurt shone bright in his stormy grey eyes. "I can't-" A mirthless chuckle escaped his throat. "I'm a joke to you guys, aren't I?"

"Ace, no-"

"Super rookie who thought he could take on your Captain. Said he wouldn't give up," the teen said near hysterically as he backed away from the blonde. "What was that you said? Fucking entertainment when I attacked him, right?"

Marco made a low sound of strangled protest.

"So what?" Ace gestured, arms wide. "The novelty wore off? Got bored and so you and your _family_ -" at this, he spat "-decided you needed a plan to get me away?"

"Don't speak like that, yoi," the commander snapped. "They're your family too."

The younger pirate sneered. "If _this_ is what family means to you, then I don't want it. Family don't abandon each other."

"We- I didn't abandon you! We had our reasons and I can't help you if you won't hear me out!"

"Then don't help me. You didn't have a problem with that for a long time now anyway!"

"I swear I didn't want to, yoi." Marco felt a tangle of anxiety and guilt roll through him. He resisted the urge to touch the other's shoulder, somehow knowing that the red flames were brimming beneath the surface, barely held back by Ace's restraint. "I never would want to do that, but it was decided you wouldn't seek anyone else out if I were there and we're _family_ , yoi," he stressed. "We can't play favourites."

" _That's_ why you-" Ace threw his hands in the air. "I can't believe it. You couldn't have, I don't know, spoken to me about it? Say, 'hey, Ace, maybe you should get to know the others more?' Instead of-" He cut himself off. He glared at the Phoenix. "You know what? I don't care. If you don't mind, I actually have something to do instead getting fucking _attached_ to you."

Without another word, he swivelled and disappeared into his room. The door slammed. Only Marco's enhanced hearing let him catch the bolt sliding into place.

* * *

Two days later, Ace went off for his mission.

Though the crew were surprised that he was going solo, none protested when Whitebeard handed him a den-den mushi and strict instructions to call back at the end of each day, or if he had any trouble at all. Ace had quietly acquiesced. It rattled them, a little, that he showed no signs of excitement at the prospect of going off on his own. If anything, his face was completely blank.

The commanders were brought in to see Whitebeard the moment the ship lost sight of the Striker. The last to move was Marco, who peered over the side of the Moby Dick, the corners of his lips curled almost unhappily. Needless to say, none came out of the meeting smiling.

* * *

Whispers.

"Did you hear?"

A pause. "Hear what?"

"The commanders!"

"What about the commanders? Can you just tell us!"

…

In low, hushed voices. "Oyaji grounded all of them."

"What?!"

* * *

[Almost a week later]

Ace's return marked the immediate start of a celebration. They welcomed him with uproarious laughter, hands filled with bottles of alcohol, as they dragged him into the fray.

The mission had been a complete success. Just as the fire-user had promised, he had taken care of the problem pirates, re-established the islanders' trust in Whitebeard's protection and had done such a fine job that even the lurking pirates had scuttled away.

"They weren't that strong," Ace weakly protested when they tried to heave him onto their shoulders. "Anyone could have done it."

"But it wasn't anyone!" Someone from the crowd shouted.

"Yeah!" Another voice threw in. "It was our littlest brother!"

The kid reddened, but found little ground to argue against the statement when broad hands grabbed him and shoved him onto a second division member's shoulders.

"Hey!"

"He's from second division! He's ours to carry!"

Ace whacked the laughing pirate on his head. "Don't I get a say in this?!"

No one paused. " _No!_ "

"Get out the booze!"

From the way the teen ignored the commanders, his unspoken message that he could handle himself (that he didn't need them) rang as clear as fireworks in a night sky.

* * *

The commanders watched the ongoing party from their perch next to Whitebeard. None were allowed to participate in the proceedings, as was one of the basic rules when suffering through a punishment.

Thatch sighed. His cheek rested against his fist. "I cooked most of that and I'm not even allowed to breathe it," he muttered.

Izo flicked him on his ear. "But you get to watch your family enjoy eating it," he retorted. Despite his words, he scowled at the chaos. He returned to folding his arms against his chest.

The other commanders kept up a steady stream of small talk as they supervised the party. Most left alone their resident Phoenix, who sat by his father's arm rest. For the past week, their oldest brother had gone about his business as per usual. If not for the general air of discontent about him, they would have thought him unbothered by the recent events on the ship.

When the night dragged on into the wee hours of the morning, the party began to die down.

Whitebeard pushed at his oldest son.

Marco tilted his head to stare at his father questioningly. "Oyaji?"

"Go," the giant rumbled. His eyes twinkled.

The blonde followed the man's gaze and he tensed. "I don't think that's a good idea, yoi. It's his party and-"

"-and he's family," the Captain finished. He took a long draught of sake. "Now go, before he falls into the water."

* * *

Marco carefully approached the teenager currently lounging on the figurehead. He must have heard his approach, for glazed grey eyes were suddenly locked on his.

"M-Marco?"

The man in question stiffened as his gaze raked over the younger's form. Flushed skin. Slightly dilated eyes. He frowned. "Are you drunk, yoi?"

Ace let out a giggle, then stopped, his eyes wide. The palm of his hand slapped against his mouth, as if shocked at the sound. "No! Nooo, I didn't!"

Marco heaved a sigh. It seemed they weren't going to have that talk today. At least, he thought, he could save himself another depressing argument for the night. "Come on." He moved to pull the kid up. "Let's get you to bed. How many times have I told you not to stray near the figurehead without anyone to supervise, yoi? Trying to give me a heart attack, I swear," he muttered.

A hiccup. "Doing that again," Ace laughed as he latched onto the Phoenix's side.

"Doing what?"

"Y-your nagging monologue."

Marco raised an eyebrow. He let out a soft chuckle. "You caught that, huh? I suppose you don't like it, yoi."

The kid clumsily punched at his exposed stomach. "No!" he said vehemently. "I like it!"

"…you do?"

Ace nodded, his chin jerking up and down. "Means you care." He beamed at the man then. Before the ensuing warmth could fully envelop the blonde, though, the smile slid right off the kid and he slumped against his side. "But you don't r-really care, do you, Marco?" His grey eyes were bright. "I was fooling myself all along.

Marco stopped their descent towards the bedrooms and moved such that they faced each other. "That's not true, yoi," he said insistently. "I never wanted you to feel unwanted. It was wrong of me, of all of us. We just wanted you to enjoy the full spectrum that the entire family could offer you." He shrugged. "I didn't want to hold you back, yoi."

Ace's eyes widened. "You aren't holding me back!"

The commander let out a long breath. "For what it's worth, I am sorry, Ace."

To his surprise, the teen grabbed at his arm. His grip was astonishingly strong for someone who was swaying where he stood. "I'll kick their butts for you too," he promised, determination layering his words. "The others who made you do this!"

That forced a surprised laugh out of the blonde. "Ace," he said, voice warm. "It was my fault too, yoi. I agreed to it. I shouldn't have agreed, or should have dissuaded them further."

"No!" Ace glowered at him. "I'll throw them overboard!" His face lit up. "And you can help me!"

Marco just pulled the kid towards him and began dragging him towards the lower deck again. "Come on. You need to rest, yoi. Trust you to drink when you don't like it." He refused to think why the kid had been pushed to get flat out drunk. One step at a time. At his side, the little brat was squirming and insisting yet again that he would beat the others up. "You won't even remember this in the morning, yoi," he said under his breath. He couldn't help but feel sad at the thought.

"Or I'll push them and you don't tell Oyaji, okay?"

* * *

[The next morning]

Marco looked at the commander's table in askance. The would-have-been an empty table, if not for the fire-user currently situated in the middle, busy as he was inhaling his food.

"Ace, yoi?" he said carefully.

The kid looked up, eyebrow raised.

Seeing as he had yet to attempt to set him on fire, Marco asked, "Where are the other commanders?"

A slow smirk crept onto the freckled pirate's boyish features. Grey eyes gleamed in mischief. "Not to worry, Marco," he said cheerfully. "They are only taking a swim."

* * *

 **That's it! Basically, Ace had spent the time away mulling over the issue and decided that, yes, family should forgive one another. That, and he cared about them too much to throw it away over one incident. Besides that, he really needed a breather and get away from things to keep a clear head.**

 **Do let me know if you have any questions, or just leave a review anyway if you would. :) I would be very thankful.**


	12. When Ace is the centre of attention

**Hey guys, I'm back!**

 **This is actually the second time I'm typing this since apparently the site decided I shouldn't sleep yet and should spend more time on this. I'd write the whole thing again but, really, I just want this chapter up as soon as possible.**

 **As always, thanks for your continued support, your reviews, favourites and follows! You guys have been amazing and I'm sorry I took so long. This chapter was really hard to write, something I attribute to having not written in ages. What usually took an entire day tool a few days instead. And the words were so hard to get out. So if it doesn't flow etc., you know why.**

 **With that, do enjoy the chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: When Ace is the centre of attention**

They really shouldn't have been too surprised that Ace drew attention like moths to a flame. Instead, it had struck them as a shock to the gut that, whenever they went inland, the fire-user hardly failed at getting in the villagers' or townspeople's good graces. Most times they loved him, even when the crew had to repeatedly defend his propensity to dine and dash (which would later see the kid being given a stern talking to by an exasperated Marco). Ace, they supposed, was really likable. Pushing his mood swings and temper tantrums the size of the Grand Line (and heading straight to Paradise) to the side, the kid possessed the personality of the Sun, or perhaps more adequately, a star. He held inside him this spark that they loved to see, but was too often clouded over by self-restraint or hesitant smiles. Sometimes they'd wish he'd let go and just let himself free, but sometimes they too feel that when he does, the Moby Dick would probably sink along with their famed reputation of being fierce pirates.

At the moment, the Whitebeards were watching over one of their post-mission night parties on one of their islands. Ace had been the one to lead the mission, sadly, and was at the forefront of the villagers' keen attention and gratitude. Now, though many of the Whitebeards' own were off partying amongst themselves, Ace was distinctly separate from them, in that he was at the moment completely enraptured by one of the village storytellers. Like a story out of a book, they sat in a circle, around a controlled fire that was no doubt produced by Ace. From the shine in his eyes, some would think the kid had been deprived of any adventures at all.

"You know, if the kid hadn't tried to kill Oyaji for three months and then turned our home upside down, I'd have thought he was from this village instead," Rakuyo commented in apparent amusement.

Thatch held back a laugh. "Isn't that the same for most islands we visit?"

A snort. "Sure does."

It was true, the fourth commander had to admit. Ace always seamlessly created a space for himself wherever he went, all the while refusing to change himself, even if that part included him succumbing to his childish side and running tag all over the ship. Then again, perhaps 'seamlessly' wasn't the best way to describe it. The kid forcefully carved a place for himself and then lit up the world, daring all and any to force him out. It was only their certainty on Ace's love on the ocean that prevented them from being too worried he'd change his mind and refuse to return to the Moby Dick once all was done and over with.

A quiet hum interrupted his thoughts. Thatch eyed the pirate next to him, questioning.

The corners of Izo's lips curled slightly. "I do wonder…"

Unease settled in the chef and he straightened. "What," he said flatly. "What's with that tone? No, what's with everything you just did?" He narrowed his eyes. "You never mean anything good when you do that!"

The kimono-clad man rolled his eyes. "As always, _you_ never fail to be dramatic about the simplest things."

"And you're not answering the question!"

A dainty hand petted the top of the pompadour-styled hair lightly. "Don't worry your pretty head over it. I just had a thought, that's all." Izo stood up and brushed off the dirt off his kimono. "Now, if you'd kindly excuse me, I'm going to return to the ship."

Thatch shot the retreating form of his brother with an unhappy look. "You're just going back to make some devious plan to freak us all out, I know!" As if in afterthought, he shouted again, "And stop trying to imitate Ace!"

"Huh? What did I do?"

The chef barely stopped himself from startling back when he turned to see wide grey eyes peering at him carefully. Thatch could still catch a hint of excitement brimming under cautious wariness and slight confusion.

The commander grinned. "Ace!" he exclaimed cheerfully. He reached forward to grab at the pirate. "You came!"

Ace let out a muffled yelp when he landed hard on the older man. He scrambled for purchase and only managed to pull away enough to stare in askance at his brother, his legs barely missing from kneeing the brunette in the gut. "Thatch! What the he-"

"I thought you've forgotten all about us! Seeing you frolicking with the villagers so happily," Thatch sniffed. "O' woe on us, the forgotten brothers! Such tears we cry as our young one goes out into the-"

Having appeared to realise the commander's intentions halfway through the rant, Ace rolled his eyes and smacked the older pirate on the arm, already beginning to squirm to get away. "Thatch! You're being stupid! Come on. Let me go!" he demanded, though a bright gleam shone in his eyes. He flailed a little when the other's arms just tightened around him. "Thatch!"

"-world all by himself!" the chef continued. "He grows so fast I weep for the day he doesn't nee-"

"You- Let me go, you oversized monkey!"

"Don't be like that, my brother! I feel so unloved!"

"I will set your hair on fire!"

Thatch set sad eyes onto his brother's. Ace hesitated, and that was all it took for the other man to smirk and plough on. "You wouldn't! I bet you-"

There was a sigh. Two arms grabbed hold of the fourth commander's arms and tugged it from its grip around the fire-user. A moment later and Ace was bodily lifted out of his lap before being set on his feet a little ways away. A hand ruffled the black locks.

"Better now, yoi?"

Ace brightened at the voice and beamed at the first mate, though he pulled his cowboy hat to rest on his head, as if to further ward off attacks on his hair. "Marco! Thanks!"

Thatch scowled unhappily at the blonde. "You ruined my fun."

Marco raised an eyebrow. "I merely stopped a national disaster from occurring, one that includes fire, burnt hair and copious amount of complaint," he remarked. A cold wind swept through the festivities and the pirate lifted a hand to cover his forehead, preventing his blonde hair from falling over his eyes. "Besides, I've a message for you, Ace."

"For me?"

The first commander nodded. "Oyaji wishes to see you, yoi." A small smile tugged at his lips. "We know your mission went well, but you shouldn't take that as a cue to skip debriefings."

A light red tinge dusted the youngest's cheeks, but before he could answer or defend himself, Thatch broke in. "This guy nags at you and issues you the most punishments than anyone else in the family. How in the entire New World do you like him so much?"

The blonde's eyebrow twitched. "This man is also the one in charge of _your_ punishments, yoi."

"Marco is annoying," Ace cut in. Ignoring the surprised looks thrown his way, he went on, "But he's also the oldest brother and the oldest are always the best!"

A brief silence.

"But, that means you're the worst," Thatch spluttered.

The teen shrugged, a smirk on his almost childish features. "I'm the youngest and oldest at the same time, so it doesn't really matter." He shot the first commander, who returned the look curiously, a glance. "Well then, gentleman, I'll be off. If you'd kindly excuse me, I have a meeting to go to."

Without another word, he ran off, leaving the two commanders staring after him in amusement.

"I swear to Whitebeard the kid does that whole polite thing on purpose to freak us out," the chef commented under his breath.

"Perhaps," Marco agreed. "Still a better sight than those drunk idiots over there, yoi."

"…That, is also true."

…

"Hey, what does he mean by 'youngest and oldest'?"

A wave. "Annoy someone else, yoi."

"Hey! That was an actual question!"

* * *

The corners of Whitebeard's eyes crinkled in amusement at the young child before him. "I take it you enjoyed the party?" he asked.

Ace grinned at him even as he seemed to vibrate about the balls of his feet. "Yeap! Pete – the village storyteller – had really great stories to share."

"Really, now?"

"Ahuh! Apparently a lot of things happen on this island, so there's always a stir now and then." The fire-user frowned a little then. "Most visitors don't believe them though, because the island is really small and it looks too normal to be exciting."

The Yonko nodded. "You should also remember that this island is under our protection, son. Most would usually take care not to create trouble here."

"Still. They shouldn't just dismiss the stories. Pete says it doesn't bother him, but I can tell he's not pleased either."

"Oh?" Whitebeard leaned forward to look at his youngest son, who was now sporting another frown on his somewhat still childish features. Give the child a few years – a few decades, if he had a say – and his son would grow up to be quite a fine man. Perhaps even… He pushed the thought away. The night was still young and his children were still children. It'd be a long time yet before he should have to consider such things. "And what of my stories?" he asked as he tugged at his moustache. "Do you prefer his over mine?"

To his surprise, Ace didn't immediately deny the claim. Instead, the little brat looked thoughtful, as if mentally weighing his answer. "Hmmm, I don't know," he said after a moment. "I like his stories a lot, but I think I might like yours a little better, but that might be unfair on Pete since, you know, you're my…" He coughed. "And it's been some time so…I might need to listen to both again just to be fair, you know?"

Whitebeard could feel his grin widening even as his son fidgeted and alternated between staring at his feet and the Captain's knees. The little brat. "Oh?" He carefully rearranged his countenance to appear a little grim, silently saddened by the somewhat wary look that flashed across the child's features. "Then something must be done," he rumbled. He patted his knee. "Come now. No time to waste. I'll show you why I'm the best storyteller in the world."

Ace seemed on choke on his breath and had to pause before continuing on his climb to perch on the Yonko's knee. "You're already rumoured to be the strongest man in the world. Don't be greedy."

His Captain snorted. "I'm a pirate, son."

* * *

"So…you never actually went through the debriefing, yoi?"

Rumbled laughter. "It wasn't as important then."

"And you told him stories of your past adventures instead." Flatly.

"You must understand, son. My position was threatened. What would the world think if I didn't protect it?"

"You do realise a lot of us tells him stories too?"

A snort. "I'm the Captain. I'm the best one at it by default."

Sigh. "Just…don't forget your medication before you turn in, yoi."

"What? Not going to tell me to hold back on sake?"

"I've already had the nurses keep them under lock and key. Ace is really restless tonight, so I felt it necessary in case he consumes it by accident. I'm sure you understand, since the brat never checks what he consumes."

"Marco…"

A smug smile. "We can probably release it once Ace's debriefing is done, yoi."

"Marco."

"Yes, Oyaji?"

"Please just go to sleep."

"Of course. I wish you a pleasant night, Oyaji."

* * *

[The next day]

Fossa was dutifully working on his blade by one of the lower crow's nests of the ship. His back was to the wooden railing and around him lay scattered the tools needed to polish and sharpen his weapon of choice. One could never be too careful, after all, and must never assume that they would never be attacked. He didn't think he'd forgive himself if he had allowed an enemy through to his family on account of a worn and uncared-for blade. So, like every other day, he sat himself down and gave his weapon his due attention for at least an hour in the morning.

It didn't feel like a chore, really. The Sun was still inching its way up, and the wind and the familiar tinge of salty sea in the air never failed to remind him of home. Someone gave a shout in the distance. And, of course, he was surrounded by his family, no matter how annoying they could be at the best of times. Like interrupting him when he was spending quality time with his sword.

"Commander Fossa!"

"Fossa!"

He sighed and looked up, a glare already on his gruff features. "Yes?"

A member of Izo's division, who must have been on watch while he was distracted, looked panicked, and that was enough for the pirate to straighten. "What is it?"

"There's a ship coming!"

Fossa frowned. An enemy ship? Even so, why would it warrant such reactions to its arrival? He got to his feet and peered over the side of the ship. "Give me your binoculars." Without a word, he took the offered device and squinted at the approaching ship. He couldn't put a finger to it yet, but the ship did seem familiar. An ally, perhaps?

He turned to the flag. A skull. Okay. Definitely a pirate ship. Two sabres with red hilts crossed behind it…and a two red with black outlines slashing across an eye- His eyes widened as shot of unease ran through him.

"Alert the crew," he ordered, feeling surprised at himself for how calm he sounded. "The Red Hair Pirates are approaching."

* * *

The tension in the air was thick.

Whitebeard had his commanders lining both sides of the pathway that led to his seat in anticipation of the arrival of Shanks and part of his crew. Many of his other children fidgeted behind the commanders, who stood with their backs straight and chins high, ready to jump into battle at a moment's notice. The older Yonko had his bisento in hand.

He had initially ordered their canons to be readied though he had little intention to fire without cause. While the Moby Dick was more than the average sturdy ship, it was still their home, and Shanks wasn't one to be trifled with. Even though, the Captain mused, the brat was the one to come knocking without warning. He refused to withdraw the canons, however, even when the Yonko politely (and rather coldly) requested to come onboard. This wasn't the red-haired pirate's first visit, but Whitebeard couldn't remember any time in which the brat had demanded to bring along a few sidekicks with him.

"Marco," he rumbled as the familiar mop of red hair entered his line of vision.

The answer was prompt. "Yes, Oyaji?"

He caught a pair of steely dark eyes settling on him. "Prepare the rum."

Marco barely stopped himself from staring heavenward at his father's request, though he shot the nurses a quick, pleading look to do it for him whilst he kept his attention on the approaching rival pirates. If worse came to worst, they could always throw the rum onto Red Force's deck before lighting it on fire. That would, at the very least, teach his father that rum wasn't for all occasions. Or maybe they might accidentally tip it into the sea.

Despite his thoughts, the first commander, who had perched himself by Whitebeard's side, had to work to push down a wave of uneasiness and discomfort over the circumstances. Shanks never came by unless there was good reason. And from the look in his eyes…Marco can't remember the last time he had seen the pirate so serious as he was now. He let out a quiet breath and forced his limbs to loosen from the tension, even as his gaze swept across the three pirates.

Shanks slowed to a stop a few yards away from Whitebeard. He was flanked by two of his top subordinates. One of them was his first mate, Benn Beckman. The other was Lucky Roo, who, was, to the Phoenix's irritation, chewing on a chunk of meat, all the while keeping up that famed creepy smile.

Shanks smiled wide, though it did nothing to hide the iciness in his eyes. "Whitebeard! It's been a while." He paused and swept his gaze across the deck. "You look as…healthy as always."

"And you're still a brat." Whitebeard cut to the chase. "Why are you here?"

The red-haired Yonko answered easily, "We didn't come here to fight." His voice pitched lower and from there Marco recognised the undertones of danger. "Well, if we find no reason to."

"Stop yapping like a puppy, you brat. Why are you here?"

Marco narrowed his eyes and regarded the three pirates in silence. It wasn't just Shanks, he realised. Both Beckman and Lucky Roo kept scanning through the crowd as if looking for someone. His head tilted in thought. They couldn't have lost someone as they came onboard, and the blonde knew neither crew took hostages. He felt the words on the tip of his tongue, but it seemed his father had the same idea.

"Who are you looking for?" Like Shanks, Whitebeard's features had darkened. If Marco had to guess, his father didn't like the way the Red Hairs were looking at his children.

"I met this kid once. Full of life, a little ambitious. Reminds me of a person really dear to me, really," the one-armed pirate said idly. "I have reason to believe he came your way."

Marco almost reeled back…what?

The older Yonko was quiet for a moment. "Why would you think this?"

A shark-toothed smile. "Like I said, I have reason to believe that."

"Even if you are right, and this child really came my way, what is it to you?"

"I wish to know what became of him."

There was another brief interlude and the tension thickened. There were few whispers amongst the watching crowd. Some clutched at their weapons, as if somehow sensing the meeting could yet go south. Marco, for his part, allowed a flicker of blue flame to trail across his shoulders when Beckman glanced at him and he offered what he hoped was a menacing smile in return. He couldn't help his thoughts from running wild at the same time though.

Full of life and ambitious? They hadn't had any significant visitors in the past few months, with the exceptions of those foolish enough to challenge Oyaji. Those crews, he recalled vaguely, didn't seem like the sort the Yonko would care for…right? They hadn't dealt with those with too harsh punishments either.

The past few months had been calm and quiet, in fact. No uproar, not much health concerns on Oyaji's part, no big raids. The only whirlwind of chaos had been on the Moby Dick, the Phoenix thought, and that was often preceded by one can't-stay-in-one-place fire-user. Marco frowned. Had the red-headed pirate gone senile then? But for him to bring his crew- no, for Beckman to come along despite that? There really wasn't- His eyes widened as another stray thought occurred to him.

It couldn't be-

At that moment, Beckman glanced at him again, and must have seen something he didn't like, for he nudged at his Captain and whispered something under his breath. Shanks shifted his attention to the blonde and the latter felt his inner feathers ruffle in reflexive distaste.

"The name of this child, brat," Whitebeard was saying. "What is the child's name?"

Shanks kept his gaze locked on the blonde. He seemed about to answer, but, just as suddenly, his form seemed to release a certain stiffness and his lips curled in amusement. "Oh, he's here alright." He inclined his head at Beckman. "We have incoming!" he said cheerfully.

Marco let out a harsh exhale as realisation hit him. _No. No no no._ A quiet memory from not too long ago was dragged to his mind's eye.

" _Is he a friend of yours, yoi?"_

" _I owe him a lot. Without him…I probably won't be here today."_

The Phoenix closed his eyes in resignation.

" _Shanks and I even shared drinks!"_

Someday, he was going to strangle that brat's scrawny little neck.

* * *

Ace stretched his arms languidly, looking up sheepishly when he blinked. _Huh. Where did everybody go?_ His lower lip jutted out. The morons. Could have waited for him to wake up, at least.

He yawned. Oh well.

He had fallen to his first sleep attack of the day at breakfast. He had come pretty late and so had to join the last vestiges of the crew for their morning charge up. The teen should really thank his lucky stars they were so kind to him. They never failed to leave just enough to quell his appetite till lunch, which would be, he thought, in just about another two hours. He looked around the mess hall. It wasn't often the entire place was empty though… He shrugged it off. Maybe he had slept longer than he thought.

Ace finished off the remnants of his breakfast and got up to leave, and was careful to put away his plate. The last time he forgot he was refused both breakfast and lunch, and was only forgiven for the lapse when Thatch had found out. The mad had been furious. Though he suspected the anger wasn't fully directed at him.

Pushing the thoughs away, he wondered at what he should do with his time. Maybe he should probably get some training over and done with today. Maybe spar with Haruta again, or perhaps he should take a nap till lunch. Most of them were busy till lunch and he hadn't anything yet to do for the crew. Except night watch and to try not to, in Marco's words, 'drown himself' by accident. He inwardly snorted. He wasn't Luffy.

His feet brought him to the deck. Instead of meeting the first sweeps of salty morning air, he was met with the backs of his siblings. Huh. Did they have another challenger? He squinted at the Sun. At this hour?

"Hey," he whispered to the nearest pirate. Somehow the stillness around him seemed to call for such quiet. "What's going on? Who's here?"

The pirate glanced at him with a start. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he saw who it was. "Ace, you just got here?"

Ace smiled, feeling a little awkward. He had no idea who the guy was. "Yeah! What's going on?"

"A Yonko," the man said. "No idea why he's here. But Oyaji doesn't seem too happy."

The fire-user felt a chill go through him. "What?" He didn't wait for an answer, though he thought the other guy must have said something as he shoved his way through the crowd. He could see the top of his Captain's bisento from where he was, and he turned directions halfway to head that way instead. He didn't know who the Yonko was, but if there was a fight… There'd be too much collateral damage. He clenched his fists. This was his family. He had only just gained them and he refused to lose a single of them without being at frontline.

As he neared the front row, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair and couldn't help some slight relief. Marco was here. He'd be able to fix things, somehow, with the commander around. He knew the thought wasn't rational, but he shoved it aside. He had accepted a while ago that the blue bird was stupidly special to him. Ace wasn't sure what to think of the look of exasperated resignation on the blonde's face though.

Just as he was about to break through, a familiar – but uncommon – voice cut through the tension on deck.

"Oh, he's here alright."

Ace's heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be…could it?

A huge smile was already tugging at his lips.

"We have incoming!"

He stumbled to a stop a few steps from his Captain. He grinned at the pirate he was so deeply indebted to- the pirate who was just standing a few yards from him, on the Moby Dick's deck!

He let out a startled laugh. "Shanks!"

* * *

"Shanks!"

Thatch always knew there was something more to the kid when he came onboard. Like being completely and uniquely oblivious to the horrified pirates around him as he stumbled to a stop next to Oyaji. He scratched the back of his neck. Of course it was the kid that the Red Hair was looking for. Who else could it possibly be?

For his part, the pirate with the ridiculous red hair brightened up at the kid's appearance. His two sidekicks followed in his example, though the Beckman guy with his cape seemed at least refined enough to sigh in what could be relief before shooting the kid- _his_ brother a fond smile.

"KID!" Shanks practically wailed as he dropped off all appearances of his earlier aggression. "YOU'RE ALIVE!"

Ace startled at the exclamation. "Huh? Of course I'm…" he trailed off. "What are you doing here?" He seemed to move towards the Yonko but stopped mid-step to stare at his father in confusion, like he knew he should have, but had little idea why.

Whitebeard peered at his youngest son. "Ace."

The kid stared back, as if unsure why he was being addressed out of everyone else around him. "Ummm. Hi…?" he answered uncertainly.

Thatch snorted. Next to the Captain, he saw Marco rubbing at the bridge on his nose.

Whitebeard looked amused. "Hello, son. Do you know this man?"

Ace lit up. "Yeap! He's, sort of, um, my friend!" His smile faded a little. "Are we fighting them?"

Shanks laughed loudly. "Of course not!" he interrupted. "We visit sometimes, isn't that right, old man?"

The older Yonko bristled at his words but inclined his head. "More times than I care to count."

The teen looked relieved at the exchange. "Okay. So…" The uncertainty returned and he glanced inquiringly at their oldest brother.

Marco sighed. He waved at the kid. "Go, yoi."

With that, a dam seemed to collapse and all around them the pirates broke into loud arguments and talk. Ace ran straight to Shanks and the Red Hairs immediately flanked him. Thatch didn't have to look to know Marco was watching them carefully. The scrutiny was unneeded, Thatch thought, seeing the way the three pirates looked at the kid.

"Marco."

"Oyaji?"

"The rum."

* * *

Ace laughed when a particularly rough hand ruffled at his hair. The touch was gentle and only withdrew after he shot Benn a look. From the other's countenance, however, it was clear the older pirate didn't buy his attempt at trying to look annoyed.

Shanks seemed to take this as his turn to invade the teen's personal space. "ACE!" he wailed into the top of his hair. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, OR HUNGRY OR-OR LOCKED UP."The pirate pulled back enough to shove his face into the fire-user's. "Did they hurt you?" he demanded. "We'll have words, I tell you. Words!" he shouted in the direction of Whitebeard's chair.

Ace rolled his eyes. "You're being ridiculous. Why would you think I'm dead?"

Benn smiled as he dragged his Captain away by the back of his shirt, his eyes fixed on the teen's. "Let him breathe, Captain," he said, somewhat distracted whilst pointedly ignoring the pout the latter shot his way. "We monitored the news after you left. There was a brief mention about an attack on Jinbei" – at this, he clucked his tongue in disapproval – "and rumours that Whitebeard had appeared. After that…" He sighed. "You should have told us if you needed help."

The fire-user tilted his head in confusion. "You were looking through the news..?" For me?

"Of course we did!" Shanks cut in. He straightened as much as he could with Benn's arm on his collar. He pointed at Ace, his index finger almost shaking as he said, "We're friends! Friends don't let their friends do stupid things like challenge that old man!"

Lucky Roo snorted. "But you let him go nonetheless, Captain. And then proceeded to scour all the papers for him."

A light flush reddened the teen's cheeks and he had to look away. These people… He knew they were good people. People who Luffy liked were, most times, good people anyway, and the Yonko had the added bonus of being the kid's benefactor. But, they shouldn't have-they shouldn't think it was necessary to try track him down. When it came right down to it, Ace had only spent a week with the veteran crew before they went their separate ways, after all. The lightness in his chest tightened. Of course, he thought in slight dismay. There could only be one reason they were here.

A gentle knock on his forehead startled him into staring into the said Yonko's dark eyes. Shanks' lips stretched into a slow smile, but there was something soft in his gaze that was mirrored by his two present crewmates. "You disappeared off the news, you know," he said. "We were worried about you."

Benn repeated, "You should have told us if you needed help. I know for a fact Captain gave you his den-den mushi number."

"Yeah," Lucky Roo agreed. He bit off a chunk of meat from the drumstick in his hand. "You should have seen him," he said as he chewed. "Parked himself by the snail and threw a fit whenever it wasn't you who called."

"Not that he gets much calls, mind you," the first mate muttered.

Shanks glowered at his two friends. "This is insubordination!" he declared. "How could you so easily give away my secrets in enemy territory? What if someone overheard and realised I'm not as fun as I look?!" He turned back to Ace and his features turned serious. He dragged the teen nearer, his dark eyes raking through the younger's form.

Ace flushed. "W-what?"

"Tell me honestly and quickly, Ace," Shanks said a lowered voice. "Do you need help? We can get you out of here right now if you are."

The fire-user would have reeled back if not for the Benn's arm around his shoulders. Somehow, he knew Lucky Roo was standing right at his back. "I don't need help!" he said quickly. Worry began to gnaw at his insides when a thought crossed his mind. "You really shouldn't flank me like this. I know you mean well, but he really wouldn't like it."

The first mate of the Red Hairs ignored his words. "You don't bear their mark," Benn remarked. He raised his eyebrows, questioning, when the teen turned a look of frustration his way. "Are you not one of them?"

Lucky Roo mused, "Whitebeard called you 'son', though."

Shanks couldn't help a snort. "He'd call the kid his son even if Ace didn't want him to. Pushy old man," he muttered under his breath. "Seriously, Ace, are they keeping you here?" He poked the youngest pirate's cheek with a finger. "Don't be scared now. If we do a rescue, we need to do it fast."

Ace folded his arms and glared at the Yonko. "I don't need help!" he hissed indignantly. "And I'm not scared! Though you should be if you don't step away a little! He'll get pissed off!"

The redhead looked amused. A slow smile stretched his lips. "Who will?"

"I will, yoi." Marco's gaze rested coolly on the Captain's as he approached. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, an indication that he meant no harm, as he nodded for Ace to leave the circle the pirates had surrounded him in. Ace moved to comply but was stopped by an arm across his chest.

The Phoenix's eyes turned cold. "You'd do well to let my brother go, Beckman."

"Now, now," Shanks interrupted, a cheery smile in smile. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Marco. We just need to establish a few things first."

"Which is?"

"Will you join my crew?"

A flicker of blue flame lit the edges of blonde hair. The answer was terse. "No."

Shanks shrugged and ignored the quelling looks thrown his way. "You said he's your brother," he changed the subject.

"In all but blood, yoi."

"And yet, he doesn't bear your Captain's mark. It makes me wonder if you're telling the truth."

"I'm sure Ace has told you already. If you're looking for a fight, you'd best remember you're standing in direct enemy territory."

"You see, Phoenix," Shanks said idly. "We're pretty fond of this kid. It wouldn't do if you were lying and keeping him here against his will."

Marco rolled his shoulders. "Are you threatening my family, yoi?"

Before the Red Hair could answer, Ace let out a loud huff and pushed his way past them to stand by Marco's side. His grey eyes were narrowed and he scowled at them. "Stop it," he all but ordered. He looked at Shanks. "I just joined them about two months ago. I only just decided where to put it and we're heading to the nearest tattoo parlour now. Ergo no mark yet. So stop threatening Marco. He means well." He turned to the blonde next. "And you, stop threatening my friends," he complained. "I haven't seen them in ages!"

Ace was pleased to see the somewhat slump of the Phoenix's shoulders, as clear an indication that he would back down, even if only at his request. Shanks, on the other hand, cheered loudly.

"Fine. I'll threaten them when they leave," Marco said dryly. "I had an actual message, if you'd be so kind to shut up" – at this, he glared at the redhair – "Oyaji wants to see you, Ace. And" – his voice turned strained – "he's also declared we'd have a party tonight, yoi."

The teen lit up. "A party?"

"A party?!" Shanks echoed happily.

The blonde sighed. "You might as well bring your crew on onboard. The sake's being brought out. Just…don't wreck the ship, yoi." He didn't skip a beat. "That includes you, Ace."

Indignant. "I wouldn't!"

* * *

Once it was established that, yes, Ace was on good terms with the Red Hair Pirates and, yes, the Red Hairs had only come to ensure Ace's safety (though Ace kept loudly proclaiming that they were only passing by and wanted to visit), Whitebeard had ordered for a full-blown party. It was too bad that they weren't anchored nearby any islands. Vista knew their shipwrights would much prefer that than having the entire party on the Moby Dick. They may have come to a truce, but only the heavens knew how much damage such strong pirates could inadvertently make when drunk.

It didn't help that Ace – the little brat – had thought it a grand idea to keep flitting between the Moby Dick and the Red Force, which had parked itself next to them. He had this unwavering belief that there was little harm in it (as in no harm at all) since the Red Hairs were invited to stay on the Moby Dick for the time being.

" _It'd be fair, won't it? They are on our ship. We can go on their ship too."_

 _Loud, raucous laughter answered him._

" _Of course you're welcome on our ship, kid!" Significantly lowered enthusiasm. "And I guess them too."_

Kid didn't seem to understand the initial warnings the commanders tried so pathetically to convey to him. Though he did wince when said looks morphed into mortification when Shanks agreed. Least the kid caught that he had just unleashed something terrible. Like the fact that some Whitebeards had to camp on the Red Force and force-party instead of being on their own ship, ready to kick these pirates out at a moment's notice.

It wasn't that Vista – or any of the other commanders, really – believed Shanks meant any harm. This wasn't the first joint party they had over the years, and it likely wouldn't be the last. Heck, everyone knew they were mere rivals and wouldn't cross swords for any petty reason. Still, Vista sighed. It would be nice to try and maintain their image as the fiercest pirate crew to sail the seas.

As it was, the party had already dragged into the night and he doubted it would end anytime soon. Funnily enough, though, he wasn't anywhere close to drunk, as were his fellow commanders. He smiled wryly to himself. Not one of them had drunk, too wary of the Red Hairs to allow themselves the luxury of relaxing.

Instead, they watched over their family and visitors.

And, if they admitted to themselves, one particular firestarter, who was at the moment laughing alongside one pretty much sloshed Shanks. The kid was surrounded by mostly Red Hairs, a fire between them, as the Captain spoke.

"You know," Izo said next to him. "Outsiders may think he's a part of their crew."

Vista grunted.

Thatch chuckled. "They are friends, right? He probably wants to savour the time they have together."

"Still," Haruta muttered. "He didn't have to go all out to show it."

The chef hummed. "You're just unhappy he missed your sparring session today. You know anyone of us would gladly kick your butt for a turn, right?"

"I am not- Shut up! I'm going to tell Marco on you!"

Vista watched in silence as Izo and Thatch exchanged a glance. He mentally agreed with them. Marco, who was currently perched on Oyaji's shoulder, had retained a perpetual scowl since the earlier beginnings of the party.

"Best leave him be, Haruta," Izo advised. "I think he has enough on his shoulders right now."

And that he did. The commanders had themselves carefully observed Ace's interaction with the rival crew. He was, to their petty satisfaction, still a little guarded, but he didn't stop the pirates from ruffling his hair (like Marco did), or looping an arm around his shoulder (like Thatch did), or attempting to pull him into a prank against them (like Haruta did). Or trying to feed him as if they didn't try their hardest to every darn day (like Thatch, again, did). In fact, he seemed to thrive under their attention, and was so easily captured by their stupid adventure stories (like nearly _everyone_ did) that he seemed ready to permanently plaster himself to their side.

It stung, a little, really. Especially when they remembered how much the kid had held back with them at first.

"I really hope the party ends quickly," Vista muttered. He wasn't even shocked such damning words had left his mouth. Likewise, many around him mumbled their assent.

* * *

"You don't have to try piss them off on purpose, you know," Ace said distractedly when Lucky Roo offered him another plate of meat. He smiled in thanks and held it close. It wasn't often the pirate offered others his own food, and the thought left a warm glow in his chest. "You piss them off already just by being here," he pointed out.

Shanks slapped his knee as he laughed. "I know! It's so easy to work them up it's almost a pity to give it a miss."

The fire-user rolled his eyes. "So mean." Then, as if in afterthought, he looked about him for any signs of his crewmates. Once clear, he whispered, "I have to agree, though. They do get worked up easily."

The redhaired pirate smirked. "Oh, really?" he asked slyly.

Ace nodded, grinning. "They can have the biggest reactions to the smallest things. Like, they once found this little bug in one of our guy's plates, and you know that happens, being outdoors and on the seas. So instead of calmly sifting through our food storage since they insisted it was a big deal out here, they decided to switch everything to dried food for weeks." He wrinkled his nose. "Even I started to get sick of it, and I love food."

Benn blinked in surprise. "What bug was it?"

The teen lifted his shoulders and let it fall almost lazily. "I don't know," he admitted. "It was a pretty hectic week. They'd just found out about my narcolepsy and I kind of missed out on lunch because I had a fit. Next thing I knew, they were shoving plates of dried food under our noses and wouldn't let us touch anything else." He took a moment to chew on his food, and missed the raised eyebrows and exchanged looks around him. "They only stopped when the Captain told them he'd hurl if he had to see another plate of those, let me quote, atrocities."

"Huh." Shanks' eyes twinkled. "You're right. That is quite the interesting story. Any others to share?"

"Well…there was this trip we had to this island to stock up. It wasn't interesting, but, well, it was bizarre. So they gave me this black shirt and…"

* * *

"I'm bored," Haruta announced. He stood up, his face set in determination, and grabbed his swords. "I'm going to find someone to spar with."

The other commanders looked up.

"…Haruta?"

"It's past midnight, Haruta. You know Marco would disapprove."

The twelfth division commander ignored their words. "It's better than the alternative." With that said, he stalked off and headed in the direction of his division, his intent to grab an unlucky brother or sister apparent.

…

"…what was the alternative?"

* * *

Ace looked up at sounds of a crash not too far from him. He straightened in concern when he spotted a flash of brown – was that Haruta? – emerge from a cloud of dust. From the wreckage, it was clear the pirate had hit a pile of crates. He inwardly winced on behalf of the sorry soul. Marco was going to go on a rampage, if his earlier sour mood hadn't yet eased.

"What's-" He craned his back to see Thatch's distant figure heading towards the fight. His gaze darted and skimmed across the deck in search of one particular blonde, only to be interrupted by a clap to the back.

"Are ya worried, Ace?" Yasopp asked teasingly.

The teen bit his lip. "Of course I'm not," he defended. "They can take care of themselves." Despite himself, he had begun to stand up. It was pretty much an unspoken rule that sparring were discouraged (read: not allowed) during parties, with reason that too much alcohol often corresponded with eventual collateral damage. He wondered which idiot was foolish enough to toe the lines now, of all times.

A hand grabbed at his arm and dragged him back down. "Then you shouldn't have a problem talking to us a bit more." At his uncertain look, Shanks went on, encouraging, "Come on. We're leaving in the morning. That's not too far off. You have the rest of forever with them."

A tiny smile tugged at the fire-user's. Yes, he did, didn't he?

The Red Hairs exchanged knowing looks.

"To get back to where we left off…"

* * *

The Whitebeards watched as Haruta and his sparring partner was herded below deck by a member of the first division.

"That went well," Izo commented.

"You don't say," Namur sighed. He brushed off imaginary dirt off his pants. He took in the odd looks from the Red Hair. "Well then. Since it has come to this, I suppose I might as well try."

* * *

Ace found himself distracted again when a plume of water burst out from the side of the ship nearest to him. The ocean water seemed to hang in the air for a moment, as if waiting for a signal, before it rained down upon them in a cascade of dusty light droplets. The freckled pirate's skin sizzled where the water touched him.

Curiosity burned in him, but that wasn't the first time he saw the trick, though he'd yet to discover which of his brothers were responsible for it. They never would tell him or show it to him again when he'd last asked (and he did many, many times!).

"Your crew's a rowdy lot, aren't they?" Benn said in amusement.

"More so than usual…" he said, scratching the back of his head.

* * *

Izo came by when Yasopp was talking about his son, a child named Usopp. Ace couldn't help but withdraw a little at this point. He knew the pirate meant well and he could see he loved his son dearly. But there was a part of him that disagreed with the man's choice to leave his child and his wife behind. He wondered how Usopp was faring. Wondered if the kid watched over the ocean and waited for a sign that his father cared enough to come home. It didn't help that this Usopp was the same age as Luffy.

He was unable to stop a shiver, and Shanks must have noticed for he had inched closer, his wink a clear invitation. So, because he was slightly tired from the day's activities and also because his own crew seemed happy to stay away, he allowed himself to lean against the Yonko, his head slightly inclined towards the other's shoulder. He sighed. If it was Marco, the man would have dragged him to lie down without a word said, and they'd remain so until it was high time to herd everyone back in.

It was at this moment at his kimono-clad brother swept in, a blanket in hand. The man draped it across the teen's back. He was careful to avoid brushing against Shanks and allowed the edge of the material to crumple in a heap as close to Ace's side as possible.

Ace dragged himself away from the redhead. "I don't get cold," he reminded him. He nonetheless tugged the offered cover across the expanse of his back.

Izo's lips twitched. "You looked cold," he said simply. The commander ignored the others as he brushed away a stray hair before fading away into the crowd.

* * *

Thatch was next.

Ace wouldn't say he was surprised. The chef always made a point to check in with him about his diet intake.

"How're you holding up, squirt?" Thatch asked, an easy smile on his face, as he sat on his heels next to the fire-user.

Without thinking, Ace automatically swatted at him. "I'm not a squirt!" He couldn't help a smile back though. "I'm fine," he stressed. He gestured at the empty plates around him. "I'm practically gorging myself."

Thatch eyed what remained of the food critically. "You guys seem like you could do with more." He pushed himself up with a grunt. "I'll send over another set in a moment."

"You really don't have to do that," Benn said.

Shanks grinned. "You're being awfully generous today, Commander of the Fourth Division."

Thatch threw him a look that was undeniably smug. "Of course I am. It's a crime to deny others the opportunity to try my food when they have the chance."

Ace nudged at the Yonko. "He's the _best_ cook in all the seas! I don't care what Luffy says, but he's mine," he declared.

The chef laughed loud at that. He ruffled at the younger's hair, and claimed, "You're gonna make me blush!"

The redheaded pirate rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "The best, huh?" he hummed quietly to himself.

* * *

One of the more memorable moments came when Whitebeard came to sit himself within the circle of Red Hair pirates and Ace. He had stood outside, silent in his demand that they make way for him and they did so with little fuss, and proceeded to dwarf all the others even when he sat cross-legged on his deck.

He grinned when his eyes met Shanks'. "You know, Ace," he said after chugging a mouthful of sake. "I remember this time, not so long ago, there was this brat who never failed to get into trouble."

Ace didn't miss the way the Red Hair Captain tensed.

"He always got into everybody's way and was always busy with playing around with this friend of his. If I remember correctly, this friend looked like a clown." Whitebeard's smile widened when full realisation hit the other Captain.

"Whitebeard," Shanks warned. His crew started to fidget.

The strongest man in the world didn't even pause. "He was so much trouble that his Captain once asked me how I handled my children, since even tying him to the mast for a day wouldn't stop him from turning their ship upside down…"

* * *

Ace watched in awed fascination as his Captain spoke over the frenzied shouts of Shanks. The latter's crew didn't even bat an eyelid and were themselves enjoying a recount of their Captain's early days on the seas. Even Benn was caught chuckling in fond amusement.

He had to admit, hearing the guy's antics was pretty funny. It even reminded him a little of one rubbery boy back home. Somehow, it made his insides long a little for that island in the East, gnawing at the hole that would always be present for at least the next three or so years. He supposed being near the Red Hair crew had brought the nostalgia brimming to the surface. Their first real connection was Luffy, after all, and he had to remind himself he had only known them personally for a week and his trust was born out of their service to his little brother. Still…he really, really liked them. If the Whitebeards were his family, he'd say they were his uncles or something.

"Marco!" Shanks was crying out when the Phoenix approached. He pointed at Whitebeard in accusation. "Your father once wanted you to perch on his shoulders like a parrot!"

The deck shook when Whitebeard laughed. "What makes you think my son don't already know that?"

The blonde eyed the tankard of sake in his father's hands and frowned. "Oyaji, don't forget your promise, yoi."

The man in question hummed in answer. His eyes seemed to twinkle. "Is that what you're here for?"

Marco's features turned carefully blank. He turned towards Ace and the teen could have sworn there was a light smattering of red on the pirate's cheeks. "Ace," the commander said. He held out his hand. "Would you come with me for a moment, yoi?"

A cool brush of wind combed through the teen's hair and he ran a hand through his mop of dark locks. He then clasped the blonde's offered hand, his grip tight. "Sure!"

The Phoenix nodded at their audience and turned with Ace trailing close behind him.

* * *

"So why did you call for me?" Ace asked as he walked next to him.

Marco put a finger to his lips, and was, at the same time, unable to help a soft smile when the teen immediately straightened, his footsteps quickening just a bit to indicate his anticipation.

"What is it?" he whispered instead. "Did Thatch cook something great? Oh, is this the prank Haruta was going to-um, I mean, that he was going to, uh-"

The Phoenix rolled his eyes. "I'll investigate it in the morning, yoi," he said smoothly before the kid could work himself up. It felt almost humbling when the teen threw him a grateful look.

"Great! Any chance of you forgetting?"

The blonde pretended to consider the option. "Unfortunately for you both, no." He raised a finger. "Whispering isn't the equivalent of staying quiet, Ace."

Ace's signature pout appeared. "But you won't tell me," he muttered.

"If you could wait a few moments, brat, you'd find out soon enough, yoi." Before younger fire-user could insist that he was not, in fact, a brat, Marco cut in, his voice low, "You looked a little down earlier. Are you alright?"

Ace's form jerked to a stop, before he continued on his way as if he hadn't almost stumbled in surprise. He mumbled something under his breath, his gaze lowered on the ground.

Marco immediately felt bad. "You know you don't have to-"

"I know. It's just" – the teen chuckled to himself. His stormy grey eyes met clear sky blue ones – "I just can't seem to hide anything from you." He nudged at the older pirate as if in chastisement. "It's fine. Everything's fine. Seeing Shanks just made me think of my home back in East Blue for a while there."

"You miss your brother."

A shrug. "And some others, but yeah. Mostly him. And the place in general."

Marco eyed him carefully. "Would you go back, someday, yoi?"

To his surprise, Ace shuddered at his words. "To live there forever? No way!" He turned thoughtful. "Don't get me wrong. Luffy will leave in a few years for his own adventure, but before then, I'd love to come visit. Who knows? Maybe he can finally throw a punch and hit the target this time."

The commander took in the wistful look and the way the kid had unconsciously hunched in on himself. "So why don't you? There's plenty of time from now till then."

The younger pirate looked shocked. "What?"

"If you miss him, go see him, yoi. We'd miss you, sure," the older man said, his tone casual, "but we wouldn't stop you. He is your brother, after all."

"You mean," Ace said slowly, "I'm allowed to do that?"

Marco had to suppress a sigh. Did he forget to tell the kid this? He added another mental reminder to relook the list he had made. The thought was almost headache-inducing. It wasn't easy to try to think of things that appeared to be common sense to him, but not to the kid. "Of course. We have brothers and sisters who take off every few months to do their own thing, yoi, so long as they are careful to remain safe and to let us know if they need help."

Excitement seemed to bubble from the teen. "Really? You mean I could-"

"Now let's not get ahead of ourselves," the blonde said dryly. "We're here." He pushed open the door to his cabin and gestured for the kid to enter.

"What's- oh. Hey guys!"

The door closed with a soft _click_. Marco turned to see the other commanders lounging in his room, and he cast some of them annoyed glares for messing up part of his room.

"Hey Ace," Thatch greeted. "Guess what we have for you?"

Izo held up a piece of rolled paper. His lips stretched into a pleased smile when the freckled teen failed in trying to hide his anticipation. The kid loved surprises, and they loved his reactions.

"What is it?" Ace peered at the nondescript document curiously. "Um, a picture of the Captain without his moustache?"

There were several chokes across the room.

"Did you actually want that?" Curiel demanded.

Their youngest brother laughed. "It'd be funny! No one knows how he looks without it!"

"Don't get any ideas, yoi," Marco ordered. He placed a hand on Ace's shoulders. "Are you ready?" The kid must have noticed the seriousness in his expression and so played along, nodding.

The sixteenth commander lifted two dainty fingers. "You asked me to design it, and here it is, little one."

Ace sucked in a deep breath. He reached out to brush his fingers against its surface. "I thought you'd take a little while yet," he whispered. In a louder voice, he said, "Marco?"

"Yes?"

"How far are we to the island?"

A twitch of his lips. "About two days."

A pause. "If you fly me over?"

Marco snorted. "Less than a day, yoi." He felt a pleased thrill when Ace squeezed his hand in his excitement. He knew the other commanders felt it too, a possessive, joyous excitement that, very soon, this kid's back would be branded the family logo of Whitebeard for all the world to see.

* * *

[The next morning]

It was inevitable, to the relief of many, that morning would come and so meant the departure of one crew and its Captain. Shanks didn't waste a minute and buried his face into the young fire-user's neck, loudly lamenting their short time together.

"Shanks! Stop being stupid!" Ace laughed.

"You should have told me! I would have taken you in in a heartbeat!" the redhead wailed. "We could have been exchanging stories forever!"

Benn sighed and peeled his Captain off the squirming pirate. "Sorry about that, kid. I'm sorry we're still rivals, but just be glad you don't to deal with this one 24 hours, 365 days a year." He brushed his hand through the younger's hair once. "Take care of yourself."

Ace beamed at him. "I will!"

"And that means no more challenging big-named pirates!" Shanks interjected. Something grave flashed in his eyes before he smiled cheerily. "Tell Luffy I said hi next time you see him, okay?"

"I definitely will!"

The crew began to file back to the Red Force, with their Captain and First Mate at the back. As Shanks moved to follow, he nodded at Benn, then inclined his head towards the Marco.

"Ace is the precious brother of a person very dear to me," he said quietly while Benn began lecturing Ace on the do-s and don't-s of reckless behaviour. The smile on his face never wavered. "And he has since grown into someone we are particularly fond of. Your family would do well to watch over him, Phoenix."

Marco allowed a small smirk to slip through. "Of course, yoi," he said. "He is ours, after all."

Shanks eyed him for a moment, then snorted. He turned around and left, though not before trying once again to recruit both fire-users.

"We'll come by again, Ace! You better be kicking their butts around, you hear me?"

Ace waved at them as the Red Force set sail. He wondered if this was how Luffy felt like when they left East Blue, but then figured it didn't matter. He pumped his fist into the air!

"Time for breakfast!"

* * *

 **That's all folks! Do leave a review! :)**


	13. When Ace says he hates the cold I

**Hey everyone!**

 **Here's another chapter for Snapshots. First off, thanks for all the reviews, favourites, and follows.**

 **I know I haven't been updating in a while and...well, I'm sort of cheating, I think. Am I? I found this fic in one of my older folders. Wrote it some time ago and it was only halfway done. I felt it a pity to just throw it out and thought, "Hey, maybe I can just upload it here."**

 **I'm not sure if you guys would like it since I only finished part of this HALF-chapter. I have yet to write the other half. But here it is, in all it's badly written glory. Do enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13.1: When Ace says he hates the cold  
**

"I'm not going," Ace said, his arms crossed.

Marco slowly raised his head from the report he had been flipping through to pin the teen with a frown. As if expecting the attention, the younger pirate's chin jutted out, an expression of restrained defiance flashing briefly on his features.

The commander's voice was calm. "And why is that, yoi?"

"I don't want to," Ace repeated stubbornly. "It's going to be cold – and I don't have winter clothes, Marco – and I _hate_ the cold. It surrounds you and seeps into your bones and-and I'm _not_ going."

The older pirate lifted an eyebrow at the mild rant, his face remaining suitably unimpressed. He took a moment to smooth the papers in his hands and then pushed it to rest at the corner of his table as a reminder to finish it later. He finished by setting his ink bottle on the report. "Ace," he said as he returned his attention to his younger brother, "you don't get cold."

A light red bloomed on the teen's cheeks. "Y-yes, I do!"

"No, you don't," Marco returned. Confusion nipped at him, but he held it back, his head tilting slightly as he gazed at other ma-boy, as if that would help him understand. He mentally traced back any odd activity the past few days, or if there were to be anything new at the winter island the Moby Dick was to dock at within the next few hours. He came up empty. "Why don't you want to go to the island?"

The other fire-user glowered at him and then, as if the older's blank stare unnerved him, shifted his glare to his boots. "I just told you I don't like the cold." He muttered under his breath, "Least you can do is listen, you stupid turkey."

Marco's eyebrow twitched. "I can hear you, yoi," he said dryly, deriving slight satisfaction when the freckled pirate winced. "Not that I don't doubt your claim to dislike the cold," he paused to lean forward on his knees, "but you must really not want to head inland for you to resort to lying, Ace."

The blonde almost – _almost_ – took back his words when the teen flinched. He was not unused to his family lying to him over the most ridiculous, petty things to issues that threatened their well-being. They were pirates, after all, and made a living through raids and deception. Sometimes they fell back on instinct even when with family. It was up to the commanders and each other for them to judge whether to pursue a lie when they saw it.

For Ace, the commander mused, there was really no other way. The kid was always so honest that an untruth from his lips was enough cause for alarm.

"I-I'm not!" the teen was insisting. His sharp features were almost crimson by then. "Why w-would you say that?"

"Other than your stuttering and your extremely red face," – at this, the older man threw a clean cloth at the brat's face – "has anyone ever told you you were a terrible liar?"

Ace's countenance darkened even more that the Phoenix began to feel a tendril of worry at the sight. It wasn't possible to di- get hurt, he corrected himself, by exploding brain cells, right?

The younger man's shoulders slumped, oozing an air of defeat, and he then promptly hid his face in his hands. The ensuing answer was muffled. "How did you know?"

Marco got up from his chair and walked towards his brother. "You are a terrible liar," he repeated. He ruffled the messy black locks. "And you told me last week that your fire counters the cold. You don't even need winter clothes because of that, yoi."

He was met with a loud groan. Ace lifted his head and glared at him. "That was cheating. You already knew!"

"I would still have known because that doesn't change your ability to lie for the better, nor does it help me forget your tendency to strut around on deck without a shirt when it's snowing," the Phoenix countered easily. His gaze turned serious. "Come on, Ace. What is this about, yoi?"

He waited in silent expectation for his brother to speak. Despite the other's valiant attempts to constantly prove him wrong, he knew the silence unnerved the freckled pirate. For some reason the younger hated it and always strove to surround himself with activity or sound, even if the latter meant hearing the waves crash against the ship. It was as he had discovered one of the least threatening measures to get him to speak. His patience was rewarded when he heard a sigh.

Ace shoved a hand through his hair. "That's not fair," he said. He looked away, his lips pursed, for a moment. "You said we were going inland. To the main town. There'll be people."

"And that would be bad because..?"

"Because! I don't want to meet new people, okay?" Ace burst out. He glared heatedly at the commander, though for the life of him Marco couldn't understand why the kid even tried anymore. He might not favour being glowered at, but it did little to rattle to his nerves.

The freckled pirate huffed.

"Ace," Marco said when the younger pirate continued shooting daggers at his boots. He palmed the top of the other's head and gently pushed at it to lift until he came eye to eye with grey orbs. "What's worrying you?"

An expression not unlike weariness and vulnerability flashed across teen's countenance. "It's just," he mumbled. "It's stupid, I know, but, I'm in the second division, and I'm new and I understand I have to go help out everyone else. But," – he bit his lip – "I don't really know anyone except the Commanders and a few others, and it's going to be hard enough trying to get to know those in my own division without having to accommodate the townspeople too."

As Ace spoke, Marco felt his insides sink. They had known this would happen, the commanders and himself. They had known and had tried to thwart it by forcibly pulling the two fire-users apart. But the resulting fallout had almost cost them their newest brother, and even Oyaji had chastised them for their attempt.

" _Tell me, my sons," Whitebeard said grimly, his dark eyes pressing on each of the commanders. "Do you feel yourself above your other brothers and sisters?"_

 _All at once, a cacophony of protests met his ears._

" _Of course not! They are my family!"_

" _W-what?"_

" _No! How could you say such a thing?"_

 _Only Marco had remained silent. His father's next words were like a punch to the gut, and it was only his pursed lips that prevented him from begging for the forgiveness he didn't deserve._

" _Then why did you think it necessary to part Marco and Ace because of rank?" Oyaji continued. He shook his head when his sons looked down at their feet, suddenly ashamed. "The only reason we have hierarchy is to manage our very large family, and to ensure our crew's safety to the best of our ability. This means we need people in charge of the daily responsibilities to run a ship home to over a thousand people. It means we need leaders our people can look towards to in battle to ensure swift victory and to ensure everyone comes home. Every child of mine should know this, and if by chance they are unhappy with the building relationship between Marco and Ace, they are aware that they have their other siblings and myself to go to. If it results in a fight, how different would it be compared to the other petty squabbles you deal with every day?_

" _This hierarchy is not," he said sternly, "meant to separate us as individuals. You would not separate any two siblings from each other lest others feel envy, but you would simply because Marco is a commander?" He turned to the Phoenix. "And Marco, I am severely disappointed that you would go along with this. Not only did you let Ace down, but you let yourself down."_

 _Marco hung his head. He didn't look up even when Thatch was quick to intervene._

" _Oyaji, he didn't want to," the fourth commander defended. "We pressured him to and it pained him so much to be forced away from Ace. He's not at-"_

" _Thank you, Thatch," the blonde finally interrupted. He shot his brother a grateful glance. "For defending me, but it's not needed, yoi." He lifted his chin to look his father in the eye. He knew his mile-high emotions ran rampant in his blue orbs, but he didn't suppress it. "It is my fault. I am the first division commander and I made the conscious choice to go along with their suggestion. I understood the merits of their plan and felt it justified to carry it out. I accept whatever punishment you deem fit, Oyaji."_

 _Whitebeard regarded him for a long moment. "Why did you go along with it, son?"_

 _Marco couldn't help a small smile at the endearment. Despite everything… "Ace appears uncomfortable to mix with our other siblings due to, we presume, limited exposure to them, yoi. He sticks to the commanders most of the time. We worried he wouldn't completely see them as family, or to fully allow himself the reprieve from daily hardships when he is among those he should trust. We feared he would eventually feel left out in his own home."_

" _Even so," the Yonko rumbled after giving it some thought, "you should have encouraged him to spend more time with the others instead of imposing on him your wishes, no matter how well intentioned they were. In his eyes, you took away the companionship you had offered him without giving due reason. The poor boy must have been confused and hurt." His hardened features turned grave. "You could have turned him away from us for good. All of you."_

" _I am…truly sorry, yoi," the blonde said, voice quiet. His apology was accompanied by several others._

" _Make it up to him," the Captain ordered. "I will not have my child driven away because my older children made poor choices."_

The reprimand by Oyaji had opened their eyes to their own failings. None of them, to Marco's best knowledge, had thought themselves above their other brothers and sisters. But perhaps part of them do, and it was that part that demanded Ace remain with those of lower ranks. The blonde felt his chest ache at the thought. They had many flaws, but surely they were above such petty thoughts. At least, he hoped.

But even so, Marco couldn't simply allow Ace to remain on the ship. He ruffled the younger's hair and steeled himself.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, yoi," he began, careful to keep his voice gentle. He rubbed the teen's shoulder when he felt the body grow tense. "It's never easy meeting new people, and it can be harder for some people than others. It's especially hard when they are people you already call brothers and sisters. But, no matter how hard it gets, you'd be meeting them with the knowledge that they would lay their life down for you at a moment's notice. You have their loyalty and their backs, and getting to know them is a journey you'd turn back and look upon with fondness. You would have to meet them someday, yoi, and wouldn't it be best if you do so quickly so you can have more people to fuss over our little brother?"

Ace, who had been looking at him with rapt attention, turned scarlet. "That's not- That's not why-" he spluttered.

Marco chuckled. "I take it you'll go willingly then?"

The little petty pirate poked at his foot with his boot before answering, "Yeah, alright." He grinned at the commander. "Thanks, Marco! I just, I guess I got too used to you guys." His smile turned wry. "You guys were right about that, huh."

The Phoenix dimmed a little at the reminder. No doubt the kid was remembering the weeks Marco had had to avoid him like the plague.

"Never again," he said quietly. His lips quirked when the freckled pirate looked startled at his proclamation. Before Ace could acknowledge his words, he turned the kid around and nudged him towards the door. "Don't forget to report to me before you and your group leave for town."

"To you?" Ace asked over his shoulder.

"Since Oyaji refuses to budge in his decision to keep the slot for second division commander open, yes, I'm burdened with two divisions, yoi. Now, go. Don't forget to pack some winter clothes!"

"I don't get cold!"

"Just do it. That's an order."

* * *

Ace ran back to him and quickly shut the door. It was not the first time he felt so grateful he had his own room (but, really, it wasn't as if he purposefully set himself ablaze whilst asleep!) but he allowed himself the reprieve as he moved to sink onto the mattress.

He turned himself over and buried his head into his pillow. _Now you have to go to the stupid town_ , he berated himself. _Couldn't have faked an injury or illness, could you? Said you were having a particularly bad case of narcolepsy, couldn't you?!_

No, instead he had to blurt part of the truth because Marco had looked so darn alarmed by his stupid, stupid lie that he couldn't bring himself to lie even more.

Ace groaned into his pillow. What should he do now?

Not that he even had a choice now. His oldest brother fully expected him to be ready to go inland. He didn't dread the task of investigating if the town had any history of attacks while they were gone. The island was under Whitebeard's protection, and it was the second division's job to get an update from the townspeople as well as conduct their own investigation to ensure they were telling the truth. It was commonplace for civilians to be blackmailed into lying, according to one fourth division commander.

As the newest member of the second division, Ace's job was relatively simple. All he had to do was follow around and observe how things were done. He had been told, though, that he shouldn't expect work to go beyond two hours for the island was so cold no sane pirate would want to venture into it and needlessly incur Whitebeard's ire.

Part of him wondered if he should be irked by their insistence to teach him the ropes. He may be their youngest, but he was a _Captain_ before. He knew how to investigate, he inwardly bristled, and he knew how to get updates. They didn't need to treat him like a-a cabin boy (not that he knew what a cabin boy did, but their jobs probably were similar to his current ones, he was sure).

Ace shook his head. He supposed he could blow up at them another time when he wasn't so stressed about going into town.

He hadn't lied to Marco about that. He did hate the cold, and he was just a little nervous about going into a new place with his division members without having even met them before (at least, he thought so). But he wasn't so afraid he wouldn't want to go.

But, he really didn't….

His mind helpfully recalled the incident at the previous island they had docked at, and he felt himself cringe at the memories.

 _Ace became aware of the whispers as soon as Rakuyo left his side to go meet some swordsmith at the other side of town. His crew was scattered around the island, and he was glad they finally accepted that he could wander around on his own. Except the given explicit instructions by a weary blue bird not to "find trouble, make trouble, or be part of any trouble you see around you" or else he'd be grounded for three islands and "I'd make sure there'd be at least three months between_ each _island, yoi." And the Phoenix wondered why they called him the mother hen._

 _Ace had been mentally laughing at the thought when a particular comment reached his ears._

" _That's the new recruit, honey. That man without the shirt." A short grumble. "I heard he was a Captain of his own crew, but he abandoned them for months to join Whitebeard. Honestly, Whitebeard is a kind man and he protects us without asking for anything in return, but I don't know what he's thinking, taking in a pirate like that."_

 _Something heavy dropped in his gut at the words. It was only his conditioned response to pretend he hadn't heard or seen anything through his childhood, and then with the Spades, that kept him walking with a strained smile on his face. In a matter of seconds, his attention which had been zeroed in on his task with Rakuyo, and then the nasty comment, opened up to realise that the whispers were increasing in number and volume._

" _Yeah, the Spades Pirates. The poor folks. I'm not a big fan of pirates, but to be abandoned by your Captain like that must have stung."_

" _I'm not surprised. Whitebeard_ is _the strongest man in the world. Who wouldn't want to join that?"_

" _They said he took 100 days to convince Whitebeard to accept him. Talk about persistence."_

" _Don't speak so loudly! He may be jerk, but he can wipe the floor with us!"_

 _Ace had then pushed the escalating anger and upset to the side and proceeded to return to the Moby Dick. He waved at his crew when he passed them by but didn't waste a second to stop for a moment and talk. When he finally reached his newfound home, his shoulders were heavy with a newer burden he hadn't thought he'd ever have to bear._

The teen rubbed at his eyes tiredly. He knew he should feel silly for being so affected by those who didn't even know the entire truth. But he couldn't stop his head from flipping out and recreating that scene onto every new town he'd go to next.

He couldn't bear the idea of hearing those same words again. It made his insides ache, and it made him want to run to his former crew and apologise for his failings as a Captain. For they had been partly right. He _did_ abandon his crew when he went after Whitebeard's head. He had left them to their own devices and threw everything he had into his task, not stopping to think how they'd have fared should he have died.

Ace tugged at his hair. He supposed this was his punishment.

* * *

Ace pointedly looked away when Marco glared at him. Again, he had a report in hand and was marking off those who had already gone inland. The younger fire-user was currently queuing up with his now-team for their turn, and had only needed the blonde's permission for them to leave.

"Where are your winter clothes, yoi?" the Phoenix demanded.

Ace eyed the other man's winter getup with an unimpressed look. "I told you I don't get cold."

"No, you told me earlier you do, so go back to your room, put them on, and then get back here."

The teen shrugged, not feeling the least threatened by the increasing annoyance rippling through the other man. "I don't have any winter clothes."

Marco stilled. His blue eyes stared at him in askance. "You don't have any?" he repeated. "Why didn't you tell us earlier, yoi?"

"Because I don't need it," Ace said pointedly.

The first commander looked skywards as if begging for patience then. "Ace," he said slowly, "you are about to enter a winter island with knee-length pants, no shirt, and your cowboy hat. I don't care what you say, but you will attract undue attention because you're practically undressed in this climate."

Ace only looked disgruntled at the protest. "Our mark is on my back, Marco. Surely I'd be more protected 'undressed' than with a heap of clothes I don't even need, or have."

To his surprise, a member of his team, Kadota, interjected, "Don't worry, commander! We'll protect him."

"Yeah!," another one piped up. "We'll keep any straying eyes plastered to the ground too! He's safe with us."

The freckled pirate frowned in confusion. "Straying eyes? What do you mean?"

"It means-"

"Gentlemen," Marco interrupted. A frown creased his forehead. He regarded them each severely, before sighing. He turned to the papers in his hand and he scribbled something on it. "Go, yoi. Don't get into trouble." He glared at the offending fire-user. "Don't make a nuisance of yourself, get it?"

Ace snorted. "Sure thing, commander."

* * *

[2 hours later]

Thatch sighed when he finally, _finally_ stamped the form indicative that his division had stocked up on food that would last them for at least two weeks more before they came to the next larger island. They would have lasted longer, were it not for their newer resident fire-user. But then, he mused to himself, he supposed the joys in life had to come at a price, and this one was something they would willingly pay for.

"Finally free to spread chaos, commander?" one of his members snickered at this relieved look. "It's only been an hour and a half."

"Marco knows how much I hate doing this. It's boring and tiresome," he complained. He happily shoved the report into his uniform, and then gestured at the snow-buried town. "Now, time to get out of this snow and maybe into some inn for some hot chocolate."

A loud cheer went up at this as his siblings stood up to follow.

Thatch chortled to himself. "I never said I was going to make any for you. I want a break too, you know." He didn't, however, stop them from trotting after him.

He approached one of the earlier men he had been dealing with. "Excuse me," he said politely, "but do you know a good place where my family and I can rest for the evening?"

The middle-aged man, probably in his late forties, pointed towards the west. "There's an inn near the edge of the forest. It's a little far, but it serves one of the best hot chocolates there are in town," he explained. "You could just head to the one near shore, but I think it would already be full with the rest of your crew by now."

The fourth commander nodded as the man gave him more specific directions. Before they could part, the man seemed worried for a moment before requesting the stay for a moment while he dug into his bag. His face brightened when he found what he was looking for. "Here," he said as he handed over the map. "There's only one inn and only one large forest on the island. You can't miss it. It's a little further up if you don't mind."

Thatch clasped the man on his shoulder and thanked him with a promise that he'd bring over some food he had cooked sometime before heading off, his own troop of pirates behind him.

He shivered when he left the warmth of the trading port. A wall of snow seemed to hit him and he clutched at his thick winter jacket in a futile attempt to preserve what heat he had. Small whines of complaint followed him and he glanced back for a moment to assure himself that his brothers were just, at heart, wimps.

"Don't get lost," he called over his shoulder. "I don't feel like a search party tonight."

He was answered with snorts. "We're not you, commander!"

"Yeah!" the others chorused. "We're the ones who have to keep hunting you down."

Thatch ignored them. "Keep on flattering me and you'd be watching me enjoy some hot chocolate, alone, by the fireplace."

He grinned when they immediately shut up.

* * *

Izo kept a careful eye over his division or, in particular, a certain fire-user who was absent-mindedly watching his team speak with the townspeople with the utmost, most bored look he had ever seen on a person's face. Well, Ace could give Marco a run for his money. Almost. He was currently perched on the roof of the two-storey house, his legs swinging beneath him.

Like their first brother had suspected, most of the townspeople couldn't seem to help the way their attention flitted to the boy. Their youngest brother was decked in attire more suited for summer in one of the coldest islands in the New World. To their amusement, several towners had come forward with offers of free winter clothes for the child, and had even brought out several more sizes in case the Whitebeards were short of more.

The strained bordering on exasperated smile on Marco's face had been amusing, to say the least.

Needless to say, the kimono-clad (well, he wasn't exactly in a kimono at the moment, he supposed, now that he was practically wrapped in a thick fur-lined coat that went beyond his knees. Beneath were several layers of thin shirts he specially preserved for cold weathers) pirate knew he wasn't the only one looking over their youngest sibling.

It had been obvious from the start Ace's reluctance to enter town. As much as they hated it, they could see his discomfort around his team and how the child fidgeted and fidgeted and fidgeted when they strayed too close. To his team's credit, though, they appeared understanding and poured in extra effort to make the fire-user feel welcomed. Izo narrowed his eyes as he peered at the teen. Somehow, he didn't know how he knew, but he had a feeling the kid was hiding something from them. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"He'll get used to it," a deep voice said from behind him.

The sixteenth commander shot Curiel an unimpressed look. "He doesn't have a choice," he pointed out. "But he will. Soon enough." He peered over the other commander's shoulder. "Have you seen Thatch? We are supposed to gather within the hour."

Curiel shrugged. "He probably wandered off or got lost along the way. Last I heard, he was at the trading port with his division."

Izo looked pensive. "He should hurry. He knows Marco worries when anyone is late."

* * *

[Three hours later]

Marco paced restlessly before the fireplace. His eyes strayed to the clock, fixed on the hour hand as the latter marked yet another hour that passed.

His captain, the other commanders (sans one), were seated in the main common in The Innkeep, one of the many guesthouses the townspeople had built in their honour. They always stayed for a night or two at these inns to appease the people they protected. The last time they turned down the offer the mayor had gathered the towners and had thrown gold at them in an unnecessary attempt to 'preserve' the protection Whitebeard offered.

The common room was warm and homey, he had to admit. The room was lined with sofas and huge pillows, the wooden floor carpeted with high pile rugs that rubbed at their sore feet. The windows were shuttered to keep out the snow, allowing little light to trickle through. Behind him, the fire in the hearth burned cheerfully. It almost seemed to mock him for his distress.

Just then, several fourth division members burst through the door.

"We couldn't find them," one of them said as she rubbed at her hands. She winced when what must have been hope on his face flickered out. "We tried to retrace their steps but we lost him near the edge of town. And even then we can't confirm it had been him and his team."

Whitebeard leaned forward. His eyes were grave. "And what do we know?"

"A man by the name of Simon had spoken to him in the late afternoon," the same pirate answered. "He's one of the fishermen that Thatch worked with at the trading port. From his words, Thatch had asked for directions to a good place to rest. He had directed them to an inn at the edge of a forest. It's known for its hot chocolate."

Almost at once, many of the commanders responded by shaking their heads or rolling their eyes at the answer. On the part of Marco, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with an air of quiet exasperation.

"Of course that's why," he muttered. It wasn't the first time the idiot went off to have a break. Sometimes he did it just to escape his family for a while. "Have we checked the inn, yoi?"

She hesitated. "We haven't," she said slowly. She pointed at the window. "It's dark out and it's extremely cold right now. I don't think it's safe to send anyone out without risk of illness or worse, hypothermia."

The Phoenix narrowed his eyes in thought. He had suspected as such. The mayor of the town had warned him the season would only worsen at night, a phenomenon that's been occurring increasingly frequently over the past few months. The cold would get so bad that even the knee-high snow would have turned into ice had the nights been any longer. The town had almost lost several of their people until they finally made imposed on everyone a curfew that never extended beyond 9pm.

It was now 11pm. Thatch must have noticed that sharp drop in temperature and had chosen to stay wherever he and his group had wandered off to. At least, the blonde knew his brother was smart enough to stay put.

Marco offered his sister a small smile of thanks and gestured at her team to leave the matter to the commanders.

Vista was the first to ask the question: "How many, and who, will we be sending out?"

Namur placed his chin on his fist. "We can't send all the commanders. We need some to stay behind to hold the front line should anything untoward happens."

"Namur is right," Izo agreed. "We should send out a few who can withstand the cold enough to confirm the moron's and his team safety."

A series of verbal agreement met his words.

Marco wasn't the least surprised when they turned to him expectantly. Despite himself, he couldn't stop the faint glow of pride at his siblings. The smart move would have been to stay put and wait out the night, but the risk of their siblings facing the full wrath of the chillingly cold night sent a shiver through his bones.

He turned to the waiting Yonko. "Oyaji, I propose we send out Namur, Jozu and myself as part of the search party, yoi. Unlike the others, we are better equipped to withstand the cold and we would be able to move more efficiently to the other end of town."

Whitebeard peered at him through squinted eyes. "The town is huge, and there are likely to be no one outside at this hour, Marco. If the information is correct, this inn is located a little outside of the town's borders."

"It's near the edge of the forest," the first commander confirmed.

His father slowly nodded. A curious look gleamed in his eyes. "What do you mean by 'a part of'?"

Marco felt a smirk pull at his lips. "I do believe one of our newer members would be very useful for this job."

* * *

Not for the first time, the blonde commander felt the familiar urge to kick the brat into the ocean. And then throw him in again once he's safely out for good measure. His renowned self-control kicked in then, allowing only a faint twitch of his eyebrow as he eyed the kid, expression stern.

Ace only looked confused at his ire. "What?"

Marco glanced at the two waiting commanders by the door. "I told you to get dressed," he said distractedly.

"I _am_ dressed!"

"Ace, we've talked about this. _That_ is not a getup for winter, yoi."

The younger pirate rolled his eyes. "And you know my response," he retorted. He started to- the first commander had to stare in impatient but intrigued interest when the freckled pirate began to vibrate on the spot.

Ace mistook his sudden silence as disapproval. "Come on," he insisted. "You're really going to make me turn back when your brothers might be out there in the cold?"

"Our," Marco corrected absent-mindedly. He shook his head and had to restrain himself from telling the kid to stop bouncing on the spot. Honestly, was that what kids did these days? He eyed the clock with a pained grimace. "Fine. I'll let you go just this once, yoi," he gave in. He glared at the brat who had the audacity to grin at him. "Don't celebrate just yet, brat. I'm going to drown you in clothes at the next winter island."

"I won't keep you from trying," Ace returned blithely. He sped up to meet the two commanders who had already left to wait outside, their urgency to go clear as day.

Jozu frowned at their approach. "Are we ready to go?"

Ace smiled sheepishly. "Yeap! Sorry about that."

Namur tiled his head at the younger fire-user. "Weren't you supposed to get dressed? I saw you speaking to the shopkeeper earlier for your clothes."

Marco lifted an eyebrow at the information.

Ace turned a little red and was, dare he say it, avoiding his gaze. "Uh, I changed my mind. I don't need it and she said she needed time to find a suitable one for my size."

The three commanders regarded him for a long moment.

"Okay," Jozu finally said. He turned to trudge up the path downtown. "It's going to be a cold night."

Marco silently echoed his statement. He was unable to keep himself from shooting his youngest brother's lack of winter attire one last look. A part of him knew it was silly, but he felt an instinctive alarm at the exposed skin, laid bare for the howling wind to caress.

He watched the snow sizzle into faint mist when it fell onto Ace's shoulders. A Devil Fruit user wasn't infallible. But perhaps...he was overthinking it. He shoved the worry aside.

Namur sighed. "Come on. Let's go."

Marco nodded at them before transforming into his Phoenix form. He darted into the sky. He could already feel his flames fighting against the onslaught of raging winds.

 _A cold night indeed._

* * *

Ace couldn't help a shiver when another gust of wind practically slapped him in the face. He wasn't cold; his Devil Fruit melted any snow that managed to get past his body heat. But there was something about howling winds, knee-deep snow, and being unable to see anything past a metre that screamed _cold cold cold_. Not that he would ever admit it. Marco would never let him live it down. But, darn it, it made him want to hunch into himself and wrap his body up in something. Like the way Namur and Jozu were in front of him.

He felt a tendril of pity for them. Namur's skin could withstand the cold better, but even he wasn't immune to the harshness of this particular winter. As for Jozu, he had turned his lower body to diamond to keep out the cold. Had the nature of their task been less sombre, Ace would have laughed at how large they were, decked out in thick winter jackets and looping scarves when their built were large enough by themselves.

He had offered to melt the surrounding snow but Namur had advised against it. They were going steeply uphill, and it didn't look like they were reaching the top any time soon. The ensuing water would have to collect at the base. If the snow was melted, it was likely they'd end up leaving considerable part of the town flooded.

" _And if the water turns to ice before dawn breaks? That would be a terrible outcome we'd have to fix," Namur had added._

The fire-user could only thank his lucky stars he hadn't just gone ahead and done it. But then, serves them right too, he thought to himself. He had also offered to walk ahead. His body temperature would melt any snow he waded through, easily creating a path for them to follow. But they had refused and insisted they lead the way because, according to Jozu, "just in case". He rolled his eyes. He should get around to kicking their butts soon.

He focused on dragging his feet through the snow. His nose scrunched. He may not feel the cold but he decided he didn't like it.

He couldn't wait to get to the inn. He'd kick the fourth commander a new one too. Not that he was too worried about Thatch and the others. He was told this wasn't the first time the man had pulled something like this. And it was more than likely he had just sat his butt down when he saw how cold it was outside. This search party was only to confirm their brothers' safety. Looking at the whispering commanders ahead of him (he thought he caught the word "jelly"), he knew they shared the same sentiment.

Above them, a blue bird streaked across the sky.

Though Ace had been with the crew a few months now (inclusive of the first hundred days), he couldn't help but feel awed at the sight of blue flames. Now, with the backdrop of a rich darkened blue sky and the dots of white snow, Marco looked entirely enthralling as he raced ahead only to turn back and loop above their heads.

For a moment, he thought the Phoenix knew he was watching, for the show-off did a backflip that was entirely unnecessary. He was so lost in thought he didn't completely focus on following Namur and Jozu, and felt his foot slip.

One moment he was struggling to suppress a gasp at another elegant glide by his flying brother, and the next he was yelping and turning over himself as he bumped and crashed into endless snow. He thought he could distantly hear alarmed shouts, but he was soon overwhelmed with the sounds of his own grunts and chokes when something chillingly cold entered his parted lips. _Ugh. Snow._

After what seemed like ages, his body stopped skidding down the hill and rolled to a stop, leaving his prone form sprawled over uneven ground.

He spat out the snow in his mouth with a grimace. His body heaved in deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. He was fine, he told himself. He was-

Ace's eyes widened when he heard a light sizzling sound from around him. He slowly pushed himself up when he felt a slight give underneath his hands and caught the smoke puffing out from where his skins met – at this he stilled – frozen ice. _Shit. He was on a frozen lake. He was on a frozen lake that had been frozen for years because it's winter here all-year round and-and he was_ melting _it._

The fire-user scrambled to his feet, only to fall flat on his face a second later. His heart lurched when he felt the ice beneath him begin to soften. Panic fought to take hold of his thoughts. The teen tried another vain attempt at standing. He could see the end of the lake a few yards from him. He could make it. He was sure he could.

He heard a faint trill in the air.

Ace took one careful step forward and then went under.

Just like that, his grip on his calm snapped and his arms flailed as he crashed into the water. The effect was immediate. He could feel his energy draining from his body even as he struggled to stay afloat. Not that it did any good. His body was heavy, burdened with the weight of his now non-existent fire ability. But worse, as he was beginning to realise with horror, what was so much worse, was the _cold_.

Without his fire to aid him, Ace could feel the sharp, stabbing pain of icy water biting at his skin. His entire body _burned_ at the touch. Like knives slicing into every piece of him. His lips parted in a silent cry. He wanted to twist and pull the feeling out, but all he could do was twitch as he was dragged deeper into the dark.

Above him, he could see a faint blue shining against the black spots forming in his vision. The last thought he had before he gave one last shudder was:

 _Well, shit._

* * *

Marco had only just spotted smoke in the air and deduced it to come from the inn they were looking for when alarmed shouts caught his attention. He darted a look down and saw to his surging horror Ace making a sharp descent towards a frozen lake. He immediately angled himself down and shot after the teen, knowing his other two brothers were running as fast as they could after him.

He felt his shoulders clench as another gust of wind forced him off course. His eyes never leaving Ace's stumbling form, he twisted and gave a frustrated trill when he was waylaid again.

As he drew nearer, he realised with sinking suspicion that the hill had been steeper than he had thought. The teen must have slipped somehow. They had thought to walk ahead to keep him safer, he thought wryly. Safer. Right.

He gave another sharp trill when he saw Ace attempting to get to his feet.

"Stay still!" Jozu was shouting at the brat.

Just before Ace went crashing into the lake, the blonde commander caught a look of horror cross his features, and then he was gone. Marco couldn't help the fear that thrummed in his veins at the sight.

Finally dropping low enough to unfurl his wings again, he glided enough to keep Namur within reach. He sank his talons into his brother's shoulders and immediately lifted for the air again. With two strong flaps, they were across the space where Ace had fallen. He promptly dropped the fishman into the lake.

Jozu soon caught up. "Shit," he cursed when he saw the churning dark waters. He locked panicked eyes with the first commander. "Shit."

"He'll be fine, yoi," Marco said steadily, belying the anxiety that dragged at his shoulders. "It's not the first time he decided to take a swim."

Jozu put a hand on his blonde brother's arm in comfort. He eyed the handprints on the frozen ice and he shook his head in disbelief. "We need to teach him better control over his Devil Fruit," he said. "He shouldn't have melted through the ice so quickly."

The Phoenix noted the width of the lake's surface to stand at about two feet. He nodded. "If needed, Oyaji will teach him. Or all of the commanders with Devil Fruits. We'll beat the knowledge into his head if we have to, yoi."

His brother agreed. "You can't keep me from helping."

At that moment, both felt two presences – one worryingly weak – approach another part of the lake. They turned just in time to see part of the surface burst and crack into a flurry of dripping water and cracked ice. An instant later and Namur was there, a limp Ace in his arms.

The two commanders hurried over.

"How is he?" Jozu demanded.

"He's breathing," Namur said quickly. He bypassed them and rushed for the safety of snow on firm ground. "Leave the lake. We don't want any more surprises."

Once all four were out of the danger of cracking ice, Marco was quick to drag any snow away from the ground with three quick wipes from his wing. He ignored the rough sting on his arm and gestured for Ace to be laid down.

A new surge of restrained fear thrummed through him when he saw how pale his brother was. Ace was breathing, he noted in relief, but it was slow and shallow.

"He's cold," he said in alarm when he touched the younger's skin.

Namur didn't look surprised. "His Devil Fruit stopped working the second he hit the water," he explained. "He's completely vulnerable to the weather until he dries off, but-"

Marco was already shoving off layers of his clothing. "But chances of him drying out the excess water is slim to zero in this weather," he finished grimly. "He's shivering too. Violently."

"That's a good sign," the fishman clarified. "If he doesn't, we need to run for the nearest medical unit as fast as our feet can carry us."

The pirates were quick to dress the teen with Marco's signature purple jacket, which the blonde commander had kept in his bag. They zipped it up and dressed him in as many layers as they could afford.

"Here," Jozu said as he handed over his scarf.

The Phoenix shot him a look. "You're almost naked, yoi."

Jozi rolled his eyes and shook the item in his hands impatiently. "I'm diamond. I'll survive. You said the inn wasn't that far?"

"It's not," he confirmed. He leaned forward and allowed them to drape the unconscious fire-user on his back. "We should hurry."

* * *

 **Ta-daa. Clearly not my best work (I cringe at some parts) but it's at least something, yes?**

 **Do review and let me know what you think. If the chapter is alright as it is, I'm going to move on to a different topic that I'm pretty excited for. :) Till the next chapter!**


	14. When Ace loses it

**Hey everyone!**

 **Thank you for your favourites, follows, and reviews! I'd sing all of you praises but I fear you'd tire of me.**

 **Though this isn't a continuation of Chapter 13, I'll probably continue that in the next chapter or the one after that. I'm glad many of you liked it enough to want it to continue. :)**

 **This chapter will focus on Ace (of course!), Thatch, and Marco (not really the central figure this time). The other characters won't be as prominent here.**

 **That said, do enjoy this chapter too!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: When Ace loses it**

"Bridge Island?" Izo asked curiously, hand held out in silent request for the report in Marco's hands. The first commander handed it over after setting his plate of food on the table.

Unlike the past few weeks, there have been increasing reports of attacks against Whitebeard territories. Intel indicated that Big Mom's were facing the same issue, with over six islands almost ravaged beyond recognition. Some islanders had seen fit to protest and riot against the female Yonko – rumours had it that many of their children had been forcefully taken for slavery – and Big Mom's response had been to retaliate against the rival pirates _and_ the rebelling civilians with a brutality that made even the hardest of pirates sick. Though the Whitebeards had no intention to emulate after the Yonko, they planned to move against the suspecting rival pirates. Or marines. They weren't picky.

"It's the island near the edge of New World, yoi," Marco explained once he had seated himself next to an oblivious Ace. He shot the teen a glance, hardly surprised at the way the latter was devouring his meal. "Oyaji suspects the intruders to be new in this part of the Grand Line, and may be unaware of our flag on the island." He took a sip of coffee. "Not that it matters. More than half the island has been ravaged, although it is pleasing to know that the islanders have escaped to the hills on its northeastern side."

Izo raised an eyebrow at the papers he was flipping through. "The Red Strands Pirates? Is that an attempt to imitate Red Hair's epithet?"

The other commanders at the table had looked up by that point.

"What? Really?" Rakuyo asked incredulously.

Marco shrugged. "Who knows, yoi? The rookies seem to adopt a new brand of crazy these days." At his words, most of them turned to their resident youngest fire-user. Some of them snorted when the subject of their attention didn't even look up.

"What's Oyaji's plan?" Vista asked.

"We're sending out the Mini Moby first thing this afternoon to stop the attacks quickly. We're not sure how long the islanders can keep themselves hidden and it's not a risk we are willing to take." The blonde frowned in thought then. "The team should get there by tonight, though our priority lies with keeping the islanders safe from harm. Ideally, we'd take on the pirates in the morning, yoi."

None of them questioned his statement of a morning attack. It wasn't in their interest to hide their flag under the night's darkness in their retaliation. It was imperative that they showed the world their strength and their promise to hunt down those who harmed the ones they had sworn to protect. The islanders may not be family, but they were under their wing. And who knows? One of them might grow up to be their brother or sister one day.

Fossa leaned forward in interest. "Who will you be sending out?"

Marco didn't miss the way they turned to him in hopeful excitement. He sighed. "Before I reveal that," he said slowly, "you should know that all of us will be heading to the island. Our ship is about a day's sail away, and Oyaji figures we might as well all show up and remind them that we aren't just some name on the seas."

Izo nodded in understanding. "So whoever is on the Mini Moby is tasked to keep guard the islanders while the others head over."

"That's right, yoi," the Phoenix agreed. "As for who's in the team… We'll be sending Thatch. He has the choice to pick eight others to bring with him to the island. He's with Oyaji now to discuss the plan."

At that statement, the other commanders stilled to give the first mate their fullest attention. Izo narrowed his eyes. He didn't have to turn to know the others were just as surprised as he was.

"Thatch?" he prompted in annoyance when the blonde seemed content to watch their baffled reactions.

The corners of Marco's lips quirked into a smile of amusement. "He's a commander too, you know."

Vista snorted. "Of course we remember that."

Haruta nudged at him playfully. "Marco never said we forgot. He just reminded us."

The fifth commander looked affronted. "What's the difference?" he demanded. "He reminded us because he assumed we forgot!"

"Boys," Izo cut in, shooting them a sharp glare. He narrowed his eyes until he was sure they would back down before he turned back to their eldest brother. "Go on."

Marco took a leisure sip at his coffee and seemed unfazed at his brothers' attention. He rested his chin on the top of his closed fist and finally acquiesced the request. "Come off it, yoi. All of us knos how long Thatch has been on the ship. Whenever he does go inland, it's for resupplying or he goes in with many of us. Both Oyaji and I feel it's about time we let him loose on his own, without us commanders backing him up."

Silence met his words. The last time their head chef had left for his own mission had been years ago. They also knew their brother had been left wanting to head off leading his own team, but had stayed at their unspoken insistence.

"Will he be okay?" Haruta asked worriedly.

Namur reached out and ruffled the younger commander's brown hair as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. "You mean you're not worried we'd starve without him instead?"

It was at that moment that the one particular pirate in their midst stilled. At this, Izo had to hide a smirk that their conversation finally seemed to catch their youngest's attention.

"Starve?" Ace suddenly said. He looked up at his older brothers, and then towards his almost empty plate. He bit his lip. "Am I eating too much?" he asked, his complete obliviousness to the subject of the conversation apparent from the slight – but very real – concern tangible in his words.

Almost all at once the pirates at the table burst into laughter.

" _That's_ what got your attention?" Vista snorted as he slapped at the table.

Rakuyo grinned. "I don't even know why I'm surprised."

"Honestly," Izo murmured to himself, his fingers lifting his mug to hide his smile.

"W-what?" Ace demanded at the laughter began to die down. "I heard someone say we're going to starve!" When they continued to look at him in fond exasperation, he huffed and turned to the brother they knew would give in to him.

As expected, Marco was soon faced with confused, wide grey eyes. To his credit, he seemed thoroughly amused at the sudden attention by his youngest brother. Not at all like the flustered what-do-I-do behaviour he had adopted when Ace had marked him as his favourite when he first joined their ranks.

"We're sending Thatch out as the first on-the-ground team at Bridge Island, yoi," he explained. "He'll be away from us for a maximum of twelve hours. Your brothers are just being overdramatic as always because the head chef would be away." He gently pushed at the freckled pirate's head towards his leftover food. "Eat."

Ace looked uncertain. "But if I'm…" he trailed off.

"We can survive without Thatch for a quite a while, Ace. We have done it before, yoi."

The teen seemed about to say something more, but after a quick flick over his audience, he scowled. He muttered something under his breath. As if in a show of defiance, he picked up his spoon and chucked the rest of his food into his mouth, swallowing it in one gulp. "There? Happy?"

Marco smirked. "Very." He patted the younger's head. "Well done."

Izo simply looked disgusted at the display.

Ace rolled his eyes. "What's the big deal about Thatch going on a mission anyway? You speak like you're about to send one of you newer recruits out."

He glared at the snickers that broke out at that statement. They all remembered the ruckus they had made when Ace had first clinched his first job, _alone_. It was a nightmare that they, especially him, would be hard-pressed to forget.

"If _someone_ had paid attention, we wouldn't have to repeat it again," Namur commented.

The first commander muttered, "I was the one explaining."

"Fine," the kimono-clad pirate cut in. "I'll explain, seeing as we'd get to it in a month if you kids start arguing." He ignored their snorts. He turned to Ace, though he was unable to suppress the wince at the mess the latter had made of his meal. "You see, little brother, we don't often send out the fourth division for missions like this. Thatch's division mainly focuses on food supplies, parties, and of course, feeding our family. It might seem simple enough, but we have over a thousand people on board. The risk of, for instance, causing an allergic reaction in one of our siblings is an everyday risk that his division constantly looks out for. Though they liaise with our doctors and nurses, an allergic reaction on the seas can be fatal. It's even harder when a lot of us may be unaware of that we have allergies in the first place.

"And keeping track of birthdays and favourite foods, and setting aside soft foods for our siblings who fall sick; all of this falls under the fourth division's duties. It's an everyday job that demands consistent vigilance by everyone involved. You can imagine how bad the fallout could be if there's even a slight misunderstanding in communicating important messages." Izo's dark eyes seemed to drift for a moment, as if remembering something unpleasant. Vista, who sat next to him, gave him a light nudge, nodding when the sixteenth commander smiled softly. "With that in mind, it's not in our best interests to send Thatch out for long missions. He's one of the rare few who remembers all the allergies we need to look out for, and can attach them to the individuals who suffer from them. He knows the side-effects, and the remedies for them as well. Everything we need to know to handle his division, Thatch knows it all."

Izo bit his lip at Ace's awed expression and the corners of his lips curled upwards. "So you see, Ace, our head chef may appear a moron most days, but there is a reason he's a commander. I'm frankly surprised he has time to spread chaos and keep his division running at the same time."

"Wow," the freckled pirate breathed. "I didn't know he was that busy. Or that his job was that hard." He looked at his surrounding ship-siblings, his eyebrows lifting at their thoughtful expressions, as if they too were taking a moment to appreciate their fellow mischievous commander's efforts. "Are your jobs that hard too?"

"In different ways, yoi," Marco answered him. "Our posts were given to us in accordance to our own strengths, so we may stand stronger as we are, and not weakened by our new responsibilities."

Then, as if in dawning realisation, an expression unlike discomfort crossed the teen's features. He rubbed at the tattoo on his left arm, his forefinger pressing against the crossed-out _S_. The present commanders had to drag their attention from focusing on the movement. "But…that would mean Thatch has to stay on the ship all the time," he said slowly.

As if he understood the sudden weight of the conversation, the blonde commander locked gazes with the fire-user, seeming to take extra care in his next words. "Not all the time," he corrected. "If you remember, we have gone to missions together, though they are brief in nature."

Ace continued to look troubled. "And he's okay with that? And why now? Why send him to the Brind Island now?"

Marco and Izo exchanged a look. "Bridge Island," the latter said absent-mindedly. "And that's something you'd have to ask Thatch personally, Ace. As for 'why now'…" He turned to give the first commander a meaningful glance.

Marco did not disappoint. "Beyond everything, he _is_ a commander, yoi. He needs to keep his skills sharpened by the experience of going against enemy pirates, and with the full knowledge that he'd be backed by the physical back-up of only a few of his lower-ranked siblings, of whom he would be responsible for. Thatch is not, by any means, weak, Ace," he stressed. "But he lacks the heady and heavy rush of battle experiences a commander needs. The ones he does have are few and far between."

It was a given that, as the commander who was constantly on board the Moby Dick, it was their active duty to protect the ship whenever rival pirates attacked. But few dared to approach the Moby Dick even on the roughest of days, their fear of the strongest man in the world too strong to convince them to sail into their path.

And with the mounting attacks against their territories, Marco thought, it wouldn't do for them not to step up their game and bite back. That was how they protected themselves.

Ace appeared to mull over the information. "Okay," he said finally. He ducked his head to play with the leftover crumbs on his – judging by his forlorn expression – woefully empty plate. "I'll ask him later when I see him."

Marco narrowed his eyes at the teenager. He leaned forward and nudged at the younger's shoulder. "Ace," he said aloud.

The teen stiffened, but slowly looked up to meet blue eyes. "Yes, Marco?" he said innocently.

The blonde commander smirked when the kid squirmed under his stare. "Go on, yoi. I heard Thatch saved some pie for you today."

As expected, the freckled pirate brightened and fled presumably to the kitchens after a quick _thank you!_ The remaining pirates watched him duck out the door.

"He's going to ask Thatch if he can come along the mission, isn't he?" Namur commented.

"If you have to ask, you clearly haven't been paying enough attention to him," Izo remarked offhandedly. He rose from his seat with a grace none of his brothers would admit they envied, and patted off the imaginary dust on his lap. "I'm just glad it'd be Thatch's problem to handle and not mine."

Marco felt his lips curl into a smirk. "We live in exciting times, yoi."

* * *

Ace paced around his room, his mind a whirlwind, as he grabbed at random stuff to stow inside his green bag.

He wasn't even sure what he was looking for anymore, but he needed to keep moving. Or he'd go crazy thinking over his ship-siblings' words about the head chef.

It was inevitable that he began to care for this crew, and he foresaw that he'd eventually slot a few of them into his family, but Ace valued freedom over almost everything. If-if one day the Whitebeards way of living conflicted with his own…

He rubbed at his forehead tiredly. He already bore their mark. He had made his choice, so why was he obsessing over one of his many ship-brother's lifestyle?

 _Because you have a promise to fulfil._

He shoved another snack into his bag as he walked around the room again. Anything useful, edible- no. Who was he kidding? All he had were the clothes on his back, a few extras to tide him through the weeks, his log pose, his bead necklace and his hat. He stopped and took a moment to look his sparse room through and tried not to let it get to him. He had only been with them for a few months, not counting the initial 100 days, and there'd be a day he was sure his quarters would house more personal items that marked the place as his.

He walked over to his wardrobe to brush his fingers against the soft material of his shorts. They had been a gift from Marco. Mild amusement washed away his concerns for the moment. Though, he thought, maybe it was a gift made necessary when the blonde had finally been exasperated enough to get them for him. Apparently the older man wasn't very fond of the teen's habitual routine of waiting out his clothes to dry.

" _What...are you doing, yoi?"_

 _Ace turned his head to see the first division commander gaping – or as close to gaping as the man could get – at him from the door to the laundry room. He grinned in welcome and gestured the blonde forward, who seemed to take the invitation suspiciously, if the robotic way he stepped forward meant anything._

" _I'm drying my clothes," the teen answered brightly. "Isn't it obvious?"_

 _The Phoenix eyed the scene before him, whilst Ace looked on proudly. The ex-Captain had dragged four chairs over, stacking them two by two at either side of him to act as supports for his makeshift clothes rack. His shorts and yellow button-up hung on the poles. At the corner was his trademark cowboy hat. But what really caught the older man's attention was how his younger brother, dressed only in his boxers, was laid out on the benches_ below _the clothes, and steadily fanning the small flames that licked across his toned stomach and legs._

 _Marco finally seemed to find the words to choke out an answer. "Drying?" He couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice. "You're_ cooking _your clothes!"_

 _Ace lifted an eyebrow at the accusation. He shifted his arms slightly, as if to adjust the way he rested his head against his palms. "No, I'm not. I'm just accelerating the drying process. This way, the water will dry out in 20 minutes tops."_

 _The blonde pressed his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose. "Or you could dry your clothes like everyone else and not heat up the laundry room like a sauna."_

 _Surprise flitted through the younger pirate at that statement, and he inclined his head to look around the room for evidence of other life forms. "Huh. I chased everyone out?" His bottom lip jutted out. "Could have told me I was too hot," he mumbled under his breath._

 _A sigh. "Ace, you didn't chase them out, yoi. The heat is just a little uncomfortable. I only came by because my Devil Fruit makes me a little more sensitive to differences in temperature. And this" – he pointed at his brother – "is not room temperature."_

" _But you want me to stop."_

 _Marco folded his arms. "I know waiting for your clothes to dry can be a trying process – and no, I'm not being sarcastic – because helping to run the ship is exhausting as it is without our own personal chores getting in the way. I understand wanting to just lie in instead of picking up your laundry or your meals at times. But," he said sternly, "if your method of shortening the process is not working, you shouldn't keep at it, yoi."_

 _Ace looked affronted. "Who says it's not working?" He pointed at his clothes in offense. "It's working right in front of you!"_

 _The commander tugged at the hanging pair of shorts, his hands reaching higher to pat the material on top. "Your shorts are extremely dry_ here _, and damp at the top. If you keep doing this, part of the material will melt,_ and _fray quickly." He stepped back to allow the younger a full view of his frown. "And isn't it uncomfortable wearing clothes like that?"_

 _The freckled pirate shrugged. "Is it supposed to be? I'm not bothered by it. And how else can I go about the ship when my clothes are drying, anyway? You won't like it if I walk around like this, but I don't want to stay here for hours either," he complained._

" _Hours, yoi? Why would yo-" Marco cut himself off. To the younger's amusement, the blonde looked upwards, as if begging for patience. "Please, please tell me you do not only own this pair of shorts, and that you have several more in your room."_

" _Well…," Ace dragged the word out. "I'd say that but I'd be lying."_

 _Marco glared at him. "Why didn't you tell us? You've been with us for months!"_

" _Only a little over a month! The first three months was me trying to make you hate me!" the other pirate defended._

" _That's not the point." A brief pause, and blue eyes narrowed. "Hate you?" he repeated._

 _As if seeing his mistake, Ace hastened to try jump back to the original topic. "There's nothing you can do about it anyway," he said quickly. "We won't reach another island until the middle of next week, and that is if the winds are favourable."_

 _Marco regarded him for a long moment but, to the teen's relief, acquiesced his unspoken request to change the subject. "I could have gotten Izo to make you a few new pairs to tide you till the next island, yoi. Or, at worst, I could have looked around for those willing enough to spare you a few shorts. And, really, the only thing stopping them is if their size don't match yours, or if they too have a head too stubborn for their own good," he said dryly, keeping sure to pin the other fire-user with a flat stare._

 _Ace withdrew his flames and sat up. His features pulled into a frown. "You don't have to do that, Marco. I'm fine. It's just until the next island. If I have to, I'll just stay here till my clothes dry, and I won't do it like this anymore if you don't like it," he offered. He tried to keep his face straight. It wouldn't do to let his brother think he was unhappy about having to stick in one room, where no one stayed for longer than to hang their clothes. He could train. Or even use the time to write a letter to Luffy. Or both. Clothes took a long time to dry._

 _He must have failed miserably, for despite his valiant attempts to appear unbothered, Marco's eyebrows had furrowed in a manner indicative of deep thought. There was a displeased look in his eyes, and his lips were pursed. Worst was how…sad the older man suddenly appeared to be. Even the frown couldn't conceal it completely._

 _Nevertheless, Ace had found a heap of clothes at the door of his room by the end of the day_.

The fire-user had to struggle to keep his smile down. No one was looking, but he couldn't erase the silliness of the act. Smiling to himself in his own room. How crazy was that?

He zipped up his bag and quickly headed to the kitchens, where he knew the fourth commander would be. He had already been given permission to join his brother's team – after Thatch had laughed his sheepish request to be chosen off and accepted him straight away – but there was something he wanted to discuss with the older man before they took off with the others.

Luckily for him, the commander was right where he thought he'd be, currently engaged in ordering the cooks under him to work just as hard in his absence. Ace lingered by the kitchen entrance. He wasn't fooled into thinking his presence had gone unnoticed, but he tried his best to remain silent. The fourth division's job was serious and hard, after all. He didn't want to get into the way of that.

"So," Thatch said as he finally emerged from his lair. He ruffled at Ace's messy black locks. "I knew you were going to miss me enough to want to come along, but to come all the way here just to see me again? You're gonna make me blush, kiddo."

Ace squirmed under his hand. "T-that's not why!" As if in afterthought, he tacked on, "And I'm not a kid!"

The commander laughed. He steered the fire-user towards his rooms, though the younger man had to quicken his pace to match the former's long strides. "Do you have everything packed already?" he asked as he eyed the green bag hanging off Ace's shoulder.

"Yeah. The bag's almost empty though, and we _are_ going to be inland for only a few hours."

"True," Thatch agreed. "But that's only for our primary mission of protecting the islanders. We'd have to engage the pirates in battle in the morning, and then help the islanders rebuild part of what was destroyed in our absence. At least, that's the plan."

Ace couldn't help the sharp tug of concern. "Marco said…" he began, a little uncertain. "No, the commanders said you weren't used to having missions as a lone commander."

Contrary to the offense the fire-user had worried he'd cause, the chef lifted an eyebrow at that. He didn't seem surprised at the sudden subject change. A moment later and realisation dawned on the brunette, and he laughed out loud. "Are you worried about me, little brother?" He grinned. "No worries, Ace. I may not always be on the field, but I can pack a mean punch. In fact, I remember you haven't defeated me once yet."

The ex-Captain scowled. "That's not the point!" he defended. He glared at the still chuckling commander and huffed. "I just…" He kicked at a non-existing rock. "You know what? It's nothing. I'll just head back on deck and wait with everyone else."

A hand grabbed at his left shoulder firmly before he could turn. The weight was heavy and left a warm imprint on his already heated body. He chanced a look at his older brother (and wasn't that a weird thought still?) and drew back at the solemn expression on the other's face.

"Ace, what is it?" Thatch asked, the seriousness in his voice a far cry from its usual joviality. His hand didn't fall. "You can tell me."

"It's n-nothing," the teen tried but faltered at the brunette's determined look. His shoulders rose and fell as he let out a deep breath. "It's nothing," he repeated. "It's just, the others said you don't really go out for missions like this. That most times you stay on the ship because of your position as fourth commander. I just wondered how you feel about that."

Silence met his words. The commander looked as if he was mulling over the unspoken question. Ace wished he'd drop the severe expression in the meantime though. He never realised how fierce the man could look, or how out of place he seemed when he looked ready to defend something- his damaged pride most likely, the teen mentally sneered at him.

"You wonder if I resent who I am to the family, and if I resent my choice to remain that person," Thatch said almost casually, as if he had not just read the younger's mind. His features softened when he chuckled at Ace's surprise. "I'm the head chef, kiddo," he reminded. "I need really good observation skills to keep my division running."

Before the teen could answer, he gestured at them to walk. He went on, scratching at his head, "There's really not much to say. I guess, sometimes, sometimes I wish I could just be part of this family and help run the ship without this weight on my shoulders," he admitted. "But our family is large and they need all the help they can get. I guess what I'm trying to say is, is that I don't resent anyone for my job. I never could." Ace blinked at the forming smile on the chef's features. "There is no treasure, no adventure out there that could possibly be more important than our family."

He lowered his voice. "In fact," he said, "I am so grateful to be part of this." Ace felt his cheeks warm at the tender look the brunette shot him. "And I'm glad you're now part of it too."

Ace spluttered, "S-shut up!"

The older man winked. "Besides," he went on cheerfully, "though I'm flattered you think I have the hardest job on the ship, you're doing both Oyaji and Marco a disservice. Well, Marco, really. Whitebeard knows how hard he has it. He just won't admit it. And Oyaji won't say it either," he tacked on. "Because we all know how much Marco likes to boss us all around."

The teen rolled his eyes. "All of you are bullies."

"Awww! Look at you, our littlest brother defending our big brother Marco."

"Shut up! I am not!"

"Okay, hush now. Marco will kill me if he knows I upset you and w-ow ow ow!"

Ace turned to make a quick escape. "I'll see you in half an hour!" he called over his shoulder.

"Half an hour? I only have half an hour?!"

* * *

[Bridge Island]

Thatch had to struggle to keep from telling his youngest brother to _keep quiet_. Did the kid not know what being stealthy meant?

Their group had split into pairs – and of course he had taken the little squirt with him – and their plan was to zero in on the suspected clearing where the islanders had most likely hidden themselves.

The island was, for lack of a better word, full of traps and surprises. It was no doubt a contingency plan put in place to protect them from visiting pirates, what's with their position so close to Paradise. But for them to hide away so far from the shore? Even they hadn't anticipated it.

It was a miracle they hadn't set off too many traps and alerted the rival crew to their presence on the island. A miracle, he sighed to himself, they'd be hard-pressed to keep if the little idiot won't keep falling all over himself.

"Ace," he hissed from his perch behind a tree. "Can you quieten _down_?"

The said pirate threw him a wounded look. "I am! It's not my fault they practically littered the ground with their stupid traps! How are we supposed to protect them if we can't even _get_ to them?"

"I'm not even going to go into your first point. And we're pirates. It's not that hard keeping from stepping into a covered hole in the ground!" And wasn't Ace just lucky he was a Logia. The commander could still feel his heart thudding loudly in his chest at the startled cry, and then almost falling over his feet to peer into some poorly concealed hole to see one sheepish fire-user. Oh no, what almost gave him a heart attack was seeing _holes_ inside his brother where the spikes were, where orange flames licked the sharp instruments almost in glee.

He glared at the freckled pirate when he had the nerve to pout. "I didn't see it," Ace muttered sullenly.

Thatch shook his head. "Come on. The faster we get to the islanders the faster I can sit you down and look you over."

"What? I'm fine!"

"That wasn't the only trap you set off," the brunette retorted. "If it bothers you so much, take it as punishment for nearly giving me a heart attack."

The fire-user mumbled something indistinct under his breath, but the commander was sure "big baby" was one of them. He inwardly snorted. Is this what Marco dealt with on a daily basis? Darn, the lucky bird. While it was mildly infuriating at times, the childishness on that kid made him want to run over and smother him in a hug.

"Hey! Is that what I think it is?" Ace said excitedly.

" _Ace! Shush!_ "

The teen whispered loudly, a light flush on his cheeks, "Oh, right. Oops, sorry."

Thatch threw him a look of warning before directing his attention to a cluster of trees ahead. He narrowed his eyes. There was something odd about it. The trees were too close together, and the darkness between the gaps were too dark, not with the moon right above their heads.

"Follow me slowly," he ordered.

"Sure, sure-oh hey!"

Thatch whipped around to see a blur of orange whip past him, followed by a brush of air as his brother darted past in an effort to reach his hat.

"Ace!"

Quickly following, his eyes tracked the- ah, a thin string attached to a hook had gotten hold of the hat.

"Ace! Stop running and stay back!" he shouted.

The teen gave a leap and his fingers curled around the cursed head covering just as a line of people emerged from the strange trees he had been inspecting. His widened at the arsenal of weapons in their hands.

One of the islanders yelled, "Shoot them!"

Thatch waved at them helplessly. "Hold your fire!"

Before he could do any more than step forward, a huge wall of fire burst before his eyes, protecting him from the onslaught of bullets. Thatch had to rub at his eyes to clear the brightness in his vision.

"The fourth division commander of the Whitebeard pirates has ordered you to hold your fire," a cold voice then interrupted the sudden silence of the clearing.

Whispers broke out.

Thatch slowly raised his head to see his little brother standing before him, his stance defensive. Flames licked along bare shoulders. Across from him were a row of wide-eyed villagers. Their weapons – from guns to pitchforks to hammers – were gripped tightly in their arms.

Ace raised his hand and when it promptly burst into flames, they flinched. "Drop your weapons."

"N-no! How do we know you're-"

A woman hushed the man silent. "That's the chef from Whitebeard!" she whispered loudly.

Horror bloomed across the islanders' hardened features at the dawning realisation of their mistake.

" _Drop_ _your weapons_ ," Ace snarled. His upper body hunched, as if about to launch himself at them, and that was when the fourth commander decided it was enough.

He brushed past his younger brother and held his hands out in the universal sign of peace. "Well," he began cheerily. "This is awkward."

* * *

Thatch had to sigh what could have been the millionth time when the islanders skirted around him and his brother from their spot near the entrance.

They had been welcomed into their temporary shelter – an impressive barricade that used the glamour of the forest trees to hide their location – after they had shown their marks. It did nothing, however, to dissuade the people from being wary of them. Or, at least, of one of them.

He glanced at the fire-user, frowning when the teen glared heatedly at one villager that he deemed was coming too close to their spots.

"Ace," he finally said when the approaching man had scampered away. "Stop scaring them. It wasn't their fault."

The freckled pirate shifted his glare to the commander. "I know that," he snapped.

"Then stop scaring them," Thatch repeated.

"It's not my fault they are wimps."

"That's not the point and you know it."

Silence met his words and the brunette sighed.

He eyed the puzzle that was his newest brother. Ace was turned away from, though he wondered if the purposeful way he held himself had more to do with hiding away from him, or if it was to keep an eye on the islanders.

Their other siblings on the team had reached shortly after they had. Their welcome had enviously been more pleasant. Or, he thought wryly, as pleasant as they could be with a furious fire-user glaring hotly at their backs.

"I'm not mad at them, you know," Ace interrupted his thoughts. The teen brought hugged his legs close.

"No," Thatch agreed. "You're mad at me."

Ace swivelled round as if something in him had snap. Dark grey eyes glowered at him. "I just don't understand why you didn't even try to defend yourself! Their bullets would have killed you!" he burst out.

The commander regarded the younger pirate solemnly. Ah. So that was the reason. His fists clenched at the accusation in the other's eyes. "I would have dodged, or infused myself with haki. You shouldn't have to worry about me, Ace. It's my job to worry about you," he said seriously.

Something in his words must have struck a chord for grey eyes widened before narrowing. Ace scowled.

"I'm going to wait outside," he bit out. "Signal to attack should come within the hour."

He left the safety of the hideout without a look back.

* * *

"You got into an argument with Ace?" Marco said incredulously.

He could almost imagine Thatch scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Well," the den-den mushi carried across to him, "I wouldn't say _argument_. He didn't agree with something I did and is now standing vigil outside."

The Phoenix shared an exasperated look with Izo. "We figured something had happened, yoi. You can tell us later. Whatever it is, we caught a flare of flames near the hills earlier. I presume that was Ace?"

Another bout of strained laughter. "Yeah, that was him."

"Idiots," the kimono-clad pirate muttered under his breath.

Marco only sighed. "We're ditching the plan," he informed Thatch. "And are going in as soon as I hang up the call."

"And maybe," Izo interrupted in annoyance, "next time try not to act like a beacon to your enemies."

The speaker crackled. "Sure, sure. I'm going to let my team know. I'll see you guys in a bit." He hung up.

The blonde lifted an eyebrow at the silence.

"Must have been quite the _disagreement_ ," Izo remarked. He smoothed the front of his robes and headed out. "Let's move in."

* * *

Ace didn't say a word when Thatch stood next to him. He folded his arms and stared into the distance.

"Be on alert," the commander said quietly. "Marco warned us that the Red Strands most likely know we're here. Our family is moving in now."

The fire-user frowned, then let out a breath. "I gave up our location, didn't I?"

Thatch grinned at him. "It's alright. Plans don't always work the way we want them to. Otherwise Akainu'd be dead and Garp would be Fleet Admiral."

Ace choked. _Garp?_ He voiced his thoughts. "Are you crazy?"

The older man shrugged. "Better than that beard-braiding Marine pretending he's sitting on a throne. Frankly, I'm surprised Garp hasn't thrown him of a cliff already."

A sigh. The teen regarded the man from the corner of his eyes. He remembered the startling clarity of guns and bullets and shouts and all of them directed at him – at his _brother_. A flash of blonde hair, blue eyes and a stupidly large top hat filled his mind's eye. His body had reacted instantly, sending a wave of fire into the air to act as a shield to his ship-brother.

Ace remembered the anger that had thrummed in his blood. The same fury that raced through him even now. He wanted to hurt them, anyone, who dared touch what was his.

They shouldn't be allowed near because he knew all too well how easily a life could be taken. Less than a second and everything about that special person was lost to him forever.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I lost control."

A large hand ruffled at his hair. Although so many of his ship-siblings did that, the teen felt his insides clench. "It's alright, Ace. We all have our days."

Ace took a deep breath. He tried to calm the part of him that still panicked at the sight of the commander being attacked. And the other larger part of him that wanted to explode when said pirate hadn't budged an inch to protect himself.

He offered the brunette a forced smile. "Thank you."

Thatch returned the smile warmly. However, in that moment, the smile turned strained, something that the freckled pirate wouldn't have noticed had he not known the man for months.

"Remember, your primary objective is to protect the islanders." His hands inched towards the hilt of his swords. He lunged towards the other end of the clearing before Ace could answer, already engaging with a black-haired pirate that had burst from the other side.

Ace cursed and scrambled to his feet. His hands burst into flames as he took on the sudden onslaught of pirates. His body naturally fell into the natural instinct of battle as he kicked, punched and shot blasts of fire at the intruders. Adrenaline pumped through him and he brought down another man with a snarl.

Throughout the battle, he made sure he kept his eye trained on Thatch as much as he could. The Red Strands must be a fairly large crew and, judging by the number streaming after those who had fallen, they must have already been nearby and had bidden their time.

 _As if two Whitebeards could be taken down so easily!_

"Curse you Whitebeards!" one pirate howled when Ace blasted him into a tree.

"Thanks," the ex-Captain said shortly. "I'm proud of the mark on my back, but you can call me Fire Fist."

Another one shouted at him, "Nobody cares who you are!"

A cold smirk pulled at the fire-user's lips. "No," he said as he upped the temperature in his fist. "Nobody cares who _you_ are."

He punched the pirate in the face.

A shout caught his attention. He turned and swore when he saw a Red Strain lunging for one of the islanders. He skidded on his feet and dashed forward to intercept the attack.

He mentally calculated the distance between them and he cursed again. He wouldn't make it. His hand reached out and he shot a ball of fire at the pirate to make up for the space he couldn't cross in time.

The man screamed and fell when the flames hit, flailing frantically to put it out.

"Ace, look out!"

The freckled pirate whipped around at the shout to see a dagger flying straight for him. He frowned, unable to see the danger. Thatch, apparently having already predicted this, had already thrown himself at his younger brother, pushing him out of the way just as the sharp instrument embedded itself into his back.

Ace hardly felt the rocks digging into his bare back as his ship-brother's weight fell into him. He clutched at the man's shoulders and roughly pulled him up.

"Thatch?" He froze when he caught the sight of the knife. His heart began to pound. The dagger was stuck at the commander's lower back. Blood was quickly seeping through the wound, the chef uniform already streaked with iridescent red.

"Thatch!" Ace cried. He shook the limp body in his arms. A loud ringing began in his ears to beat in time with his racing heart. There was a faint shout above him and he snarled at the still conscious – the still _alive_ pirates.

Something inside him tugged at him, a pull that dragged forcefully at his consciousness. It demanded his entire attention even though his world had currently been reduced to the unconscious brunette whom he held tightly to his chest.

Fury battered through him. They were still alive. The rage tore down his inhibitions and Ace felt his body shudder at the intensity. If he didn't control it, he'd explode. He'd hurt Thatch even more. But if he didn't move, they'd kill Thatch.

His grey eyes dilated. They'd kill his brother.

As if a dam had opened, Ace screamed. The tugging at his gut seemed to compress tightly before whipping out in a sharp lash that had him fall over for a moment. He heard several thuds above the roar in his ears but he couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't make sense of the suddenly unconscious bodies around him.

His upper body swayed slightly as he grasped at Thatch's unmoving body, not bothered at all the way his vision swam. "Thatch," he whispered.

Ace reached out to shakily cover the wound. "Thatch. Please be okay," he begged. "You'll be okay, okay? You'll be fine, Thatch. I'll get you help."

A pair of warm, familiar hands encircled his chest and pulled. Ace's eyes widened in panic and he let loose another frantic cry.

* * *

Marco almost felt his heart stop when he heard the agonised scream from ahead of them. From the twitches around him, he knew he wasn't the only one discomforted by the voice of their brother. All of them sped up, but he jumped and took to the air.

With his speed, he was easily within a short distance of the clearing Thatch had identified. He furled his wings close to his sides and dove as fast and as steeply as he dared towards the location of agreement.

As he neared, the Phoenix felt his heart skip another beat just in time as he caught Ace clutching at their downed commander. The rival pirates around him were all unconscious and were lying in odd heaps on the ground, as if they had fallen where they stood without an enemy to cut them down.

He landed in two quick steps. He didn't pause to gain momentum and rushed towards his brothers.

 _A dagger_ , the Phoenix inside him trilled furiously. _They had stabbed his brother!_

Marco forced his instincts for vengeance down and kneeled next to the two Whitebeards. Thatch was frighteningly pale. There weren't any other visible injuries save the knife in his back, which was angled towards Ace's chest.

"What happened, yoi?" he demanded.

He received no answer. His gaze shot up from the pale commander to the fire-user and almost had to take a double-take. The freckled pirate's pale skin almost rivalled Thatch's, making his freckles more pronounced against his cheeks. His hair was dishevelled with dirt and grime. But what made the blonde's gut clench in slowly rising fear was the glazed, wide-eyed look the younger man sported. The grey orbs looked haunted.

He watched, his throat dry, as Ace mechanically put trembling fingers against the wound in the chef's side. "Thatch," the teen was whispering, a shaky breath that the blonde barely caught. "Please be okay. You'll be okay, okay?"

"Ace, yoi," Marco called carefully. Nearby, he sensed his other siblings' approach.

The freckled pirate didn't seem to hear him. "You'll be fine, Thatch," he breathed. "I'll get you help."

The Phoenix got to his feet. When his movement went unnoticed, he warned Izo and his other siblings away for a moment. He gestured at the sixteenth commander, and then at the head chef. Izo quickly concealed the brief show of sick horror and nodded grimly.

Marco stood behind Ace and prepared himself. There was no time to waste. Ace needed to calm down and Thatch needed help right _now_.

He embraced the kid tightly and pulled. The blonde tried not to let it get to him when the teen's first instinct was to cry out in alarm. The kid flailed wildly in his arms and bucked against him to be let go.

"Let go of me!" Ace shouted. He tried to kick at the commander. His struggles were renewed when Izo darted in to gently pull Thatch away.

" _No!_ " the teen cried out. His arms reached for Thatch desperately, a move that had most of the present Whitebeards looking away. " _I won't let you hurt him anymore!_ "

"Calm down, yoi," Marco said into his ear. "It's alright. We'll get him home safe."

The teenager refused to listen to reason. "Let me go! Please!" he begged. "He's my brother! I have to keep him safe!"

The Phoenix had to breathe in deeply to calm the stabbing ache that clawed at his heart. He tried to channel all the warmth he had into the embrace. "He'll be fine, Ace," he soothed. "You need to calm down."

He exchanged a worried look with Izo when all that did was incite another bout of valiant struggle.

" _Let me GO! Let me go let me go let me go!_ "

Marco's words died in his throat when Ace released a wave of Conqueror's haki. He felt his legs shake. The only other person in the clearing who hadn't bowed down to the pressure to _kneel_ was Izo.

The sixteenth commander covered his lips in shock. "Oh my."

The blonde shook himself. "Get Thatch to the Moby Dick _now_ ," he snapped. "I'll handle Ace. Go!"

Izo snapped to attention and nodded. He supposed they were lucky Thatch had been stabbed in the back. It would be easier for them to piggyback him down.

Once the two pirates had left the clearing, Marco let go of the teen and quickly spun him around. A furious Ace snarled at his face and the next moment both of them were ablaze. His own blue flames come to the surface to push back the destructive fire that was Ace's.

"Ace!" he shouted above the roar of the mini-inferno. "It's me, Marco! It's alright, I promise, yoi. It's Marco. I'm here and both of us are _fine_. You need to calm down!"

He swore when his words didn't seem to reach the pirate at all. He tightened his grip on the teen and continued to voice his assurances to the frantic pirate.

"Calm yourself, yoi," Marco urged. It wasn't working, he realised. Whatever the heck state of mind his sibling was in, he couldn't reach him.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead against Ace's, his eyes slipping close. "Come back to your brother, please." His voice shook slightly.

After what seemed like ages, the fire began to die down. Marco opened his eyes to see a pair of wild grey eyes lock on his.

"Ace," he breathed.

"M-Marco?".

"Yes, yoi." Marco took a risk and allowed his grip to change. His fingers rubbed at the teen's back in an attempt to soothe him.

Some form of reason seemed to return to the ex-Captain, but he still looked crazed about the edges. "Thatch?" he demanded. He pushed against the commander to find the missing pirate. "Where is he?!"

"Izo is bringing him to the infirmary," the blonde answered gently. "He'll be fine. He'll be okay."

Ace shook his head frantically. "No, no, you don't get it," he gasped. "It's my fault. I wasn't looking and he took the hit. My fault. All my fault!"

Marco had to breathe to calm himself down when his brother continued to blame himself. The kids' back was slick with sweat and he knew it wasn't the heat that caused it.

"Ace," he said firmly. "You aren't helping him like this, yoi. I don't care whose fault it is. Calm yourself!"

The teenager froze in his arms. Ace looked up at him and the commander made the mistake of looking into his eyes. His eyes were a stormy grey, where something dark and clouded lurked in his gaze. A film of tears gathered beneath the haunted orbs.

"I'm sorry," Ace mumbled. His body heaved as if repressing a deep shudder – or a sob. "I'm sorry," he repeated. A drop of water streaked down his cheek. "I'm so, so sorry."

Marco immediately locked his arms around his brother. He hugged the kid close. When he felt the trembling, he gently lowered them to the floor, unheeding of the unconscious bodies littered around them. He wouldn't look, he decided, in case that would set off his inner Phoenix to burn them to ashes.

"It's alright, brother," he soothed. "You're alright."

He held the weighty feel of the younger pirate leaning into him with care. The teen seemed small in his arms. It felt like hugging a child, if he knew how it felt like. Marco rubbed his nose into the top of messy black locks. Thatch would be alright, he told himself as he worked to calm the pounding of his heart. Both his brothers would be alright.

Ace shifted in his grip. "Will it hurt?" he asked quietly, the whisper achingly sad.

Marco tried to look down at the face currently hidden at his shoulder. Before he could answer, his brother spoke again. "I hurt him," he whispered. "It's the rule."

The commander had to recoil when realisation struck him like a punch to the face. He gaped and, for a moment, he was at a loss for words. "Why would you say that?"

The freckled child looked away, eyes downcast and dripping tears.

The struggle to keep the building horror from his face was one of the hardest battles Marco had had to fight. Even then, he wasn't sure how successful he was. "Ace, no," he tried helplessly. "I may not know what happened, yoi, but I know whatever did was not the result of any of your intentions." He lifted the younger's chin with a finger, trying hard to ignore how wet the teen's face was. "We're your _family_ ," he added. He didn't know what else he could say.

Somehow, he must have done something right – or incredibly wrong, he thought at that precise moment – for Ace began scrabbling at his chest in earnest. Sobs racked his body. His tears continued to flow.

Marco bit his lip as he held the boy close. He whispered his assurances, rubbed at the younger's back, and inwardly willed all the calm he had into his brother, but inside, he knew he could only sit there and wait for Ace to find himself again.

* * *

When Marco returned to the Moby Dick with Ace on his back, he was met with the grim faces of his family. Whitebeard was standing erect at the forefront of the group, a couple of his siblings by his left, while at his right was part of their army of doctors and nurses who already had their gazes zeroed in on the child on his back.

And a child Ace truly was, if the earlier incident was any indication. Marco sometimes forgot how painfully young his newest brother was.

He kept his features impassive as he jogged over to them. He shook his head when they moved to grab the currently exhausted teen.

"I'll bring him to the infirmary, yoi," he said quietly. He could feel his father's watchful gaze bearing on his back as the nurses pushed ushered him towards their ship.

"How is Thatch?" he asked as they neared the infirmary.

One of the nurses answered, "In surgery. The blade was made of sea stone, but it was a clean cut, a little deep, but nothing we can't fix. And Ace?"

Marco let out a breath in relief. That eased the worry in his chest. "I think he was in shock, yoi. I'm not sure what happened, but he was panicked and, I think he lost himself for a bit there." He paused. "Rapid pulse, pale skin, and he threw up when I tried to first lift him up onto my back."

The nurse nodded. "Alright," he said. "Might have been a panic attack. I take it he just exhausted himself till he passed out?"

"Almost. He only fell asleep when we neared the Moby Dick."

"Got it. Lay him on the bed. We'll drop updates on Thatch and Ace when we have them."

Marco wasn't sure what it was he expected when he walked into the infirmary to see his two brothers. He had briefly considered several outcomes, many of which included a lot of time by Ace's side and repeated efforts to keep both troublemakers in bed. While he was spot on with a whiny Thatch on his hands, he hadn't thought the freckled pirate would defy his expectations in this and pretend nothing had happened.

Although, he mused as he watched Ace playfully stealing some of the chef's food, he supposed losing it in front of a crew he had just joined would be faintly embarrassing. Even for someone as headstrong as the fire-user.

Ace hadn't looked at him once beyond flushing a bright crimson when he had entered the room. To the kid's credit, he did speak to the blonde, though the lack of eye contact somewhat softened the effect.

Marco was under no delusion that Thatch hadn't noticed. If anything, the chef had turned a blind eye, going as far as to humour his youngest brother's pathetic attempts to take his food, and then acting ignorant when the teen 'secretly' replaced the stolen bits with bigger parts.

"You took almost the entire crew out by yourself," Thatch was saying proudly. He faked wiping a tear. "I can't believe how fast you kids grow."

Ace rolled his eyes. "I'm not a kid," he complained. "Besides, someone had to pull their weight after you went and passed out like a princess."

A moment later and the kid's young features darkened into a deep shade of red again. The Phoenix just knew the kid had remembered that he too had passed out on the safety of his back. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything when the freckled pirate darted a quick glance at him.

"Speaking of fainting princesses," he said, pretending he didn't see the look of alarm, "you aren't allowed out of bed for two weeks, Thatch. As for you, yoi," he directed at Ace, "you are free to leave once you're clear. That should be around noon today."

Ace pumped a fist into the air while the chef groaned into his hands.

"What about my kitchens?" he demanded. "How will you guys survive without my supervision? They might burn the onions or, Whitebeard forbid, mess up my signature curry specialty!"

"They've been celebrating the absence of your continued hovering for the past two days," Marco said impassively. From Thatch's thoroughly wounded look, he knew the man had seen through his blatant lie. He didn't feel bad at all.

Ace had perked up. "Curry? I didn't know you make curry."

"Of course I make curry! I made it last week for lunch!"

"I didn't get any!"

"That's because you fell asleep on the crow's nest, yoi," the blonde snorted. He knew the kid couldn't feel the scorching heat, but he could never fully calm the alarm at seeing his brother sprawled under the afternoon sun. It made his skin crawl.

The teen's lower lip jutted out. "Could have woken me," he muttered.

Marco levelled a glare at him. "I did. How do you think I knew that you were there?"

Ace drummed his forefinger against his chin, as if in deep thought. "I don't know," he said finally. He shrugged. "Maybe because you have this strange superpower in knowing where everyone is at any time."

Thatch snickered in agreement.

The first commander rolled his eyes. He was bullied even in the infirmary. This was his life, apparently.

He reached over to whack the chef's head out the way to ruffle at the fire-user's messy black tresses. The kid stiffened at his touch but didn't move to stop it.

"Not a kid," the kid muttered.

"Behave yourselves," Marco instructed as he got up to leave.

"What?" Thatch said in surprise. "Where are you going? You just got here."

The blonde threw him a dry look. "I've been here for almost an hour. I actually have more important things to do than babysit the two of you, yoi."

Both pirates returned the comment with a dirty look. "Hey!" they exclaimed indignantly.

"And now they are speaking in tandem," Marco muttered as he shook his head. He glared at them. "Behave," he repeated sternly.

He told himself he didn't see the way the two exchanged a glance full of promise as he left. It was the better alternative to having Ace dwelling in that head of his, at least. It would no doubt take time for him to collect himself after such a display.

The Phoenix stuck his hands into his jacket pockets. His brother wasn't ready to speak, and that was alright. Maybe he was in a bad place at the moment. Maybe all he needed was some fresh air. Perhaps, just maybe, he needed to clear his head before making the smart decision to get some support if he felt he needed it.

Whatever it was, Marco couldn't force Ace into accepting help. He himself remembered those earlier dark years of his life, when he had turned against himself until Oyaji had retrieved him from that hellhole. He wouldn't wish that darkness or pain of that forced isolation on anyone – even the thought of it made him shudder – much less his brother.

Life was joy, pleasure, contentment and the heady sense of thrill and adventure. But life was also anger, pain, loneliness, and sorrow.

Both were needed for one to truly live.

And sometimes he needed it to remind himself he was alive.

All of them had demons inside. He just hoped the ones inside Ace wasn't enough to eventually break him down.

On the topic of Conquerer's Haki on the other hand…

* * *

Thatch dutifully closed his eyes and readied himself to fall into sleep, knowing that Ace wanted a break from pretending he was fine and not seconds away from losing control.

He didn't know what had happened after he had been stabbed. But judging from Marco's silence and the teen's refusal to talk to the blonde commander much, the kid probably had freaked out enough to keep any potential teasing at bay.

He faked the deep breathing patterns associated with sleep. He should train more, he thought as he began to nod off. That way, Ace could have the luxury to be more playful and reckless and act his darn age more.

The kid had the entire world at his fingertips, after all.

* * *

Ace's shoulder slumped when Thatch finally gave in and retired to sleep. He relaxed into his own bed, his right leg slung over his left.

The infirmary was eerily quiet in the wake of their earlier chatter, but his mind was rapidly filled with plans and scrapped ideas. The rush of frenzied emotions he had forced aside fought to take hold of his mind but he defiantly kept them locked and stored away. Instead, he welcomed the iron-clad will of determination to claw into him with relish.

Ace bit his lip so hard he felt a trickle of blood on his chin. He remembered the flash of a knife and his subsequent loss of control.

Stronger. He had to get stronger.

 _So I'll never lose anyone ever again!_

He flicked a glance at the sleeping chef.

He would train harder than he ever had. Break down his limits and go beyond whatever he had marked as his best so he would never, _never_ have to suffer the pain of losing another brother.

Contrary to popular belief, Ace wasn't naïve enough to think the Whitebeards to be infallible. The commanders were crazy strong, but they weren't impossible to defeat. This recent incident just proved that. Carelessness, complacency, anything could be thrown into the mix and then someone he cared for could die.

Just like that. No forewarning. Just another life extinguished as if that person had been nothing more than a speck of existence, and not someone he had relied upon and loved for so long.

Ace ignored the way his heart twisted. It was alright. He couldn't change the world but he could change himself. He would become so strong that the world would fear even insulting those he cared about. He'd fight against the sea currents himself if it meant he became more powerful.

He would protect his family. He had to. His fists clenched. Because no one else would.

* * *

 **There it is! I've had this idea for a while and I finally got it out. Nothing particularly special but we all need that one oneshot once in a while with all the fluff, yeah? Or a little drop of fluff.**

 **Do review and let me know what you think!**

 **P.S. Any ideas for the next chapters? Other than the continuation of Chapter 13, I'm almost out of any inspirations.**


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